Would you,

Bleed in my cup of ink? 

Be the words I poetically disguise as false truth 

Decorate my paper with your melancholic scent

It is in your agony I find delight

Though not for long

You abuse my creativity until a fire sends flames soaring across the sky. 

Without your kiss engraved upon my lips there is nothing left to ignite. 

I feel it now 
My soul slowly begins to...

Die.