Her eyes and words are so icy

Oh but she burns

Like rum on the fire

Hot and fast and angry

As she can be

I walk my days on a wire

It looks ugly but it's clean

Oh momma don't fuss over me

The way she tells me

I'm hers and she is mine

Open hand or closed fist

Would be fine

The blood is rare and sweet

As cherry wine

Calls of guilty fall on me

All while she stains

The sheets of some other

Thrown at me so powerfully

Just like she throws with

The arm of her brother

But I want it it's a crime

That she's not around most

Of the time

The way she tells me

I'm hers and she is mine

Open hand or closed fist

Would be fine

The blood is rare and sweet

As cherry wine

Her fight and fury is fiery

Oh but she loves

Like sleep to the freezing

Sweet and right and merciful

I'm all but washed

In the tide of her breathing

And it's worth it it's divine

And I have this some of the time

The way she tells me

I'm hers and she is mine

Open hand or closed fist

Would be fine

The blood is rare and sweet

As cherry wine