"It's not really poetry but it's pretty", he said

As he raises his voice, she lowers her head

"It makes my heart heavy, you're lonely, I think

Oh, Rose, you're sad, I suppose" But look in her bed and she's bound to be sleeping

She's lying there dead but she's breathing Furious Rose, with your opiate eyes

Your languorous hum, that tone of surprise

I've heard energy in adversity, your smile, the soul of witchery

You're not running away, you're not running, are you? Lyrically longing, she's tearing the words from the page

She's fearfully seething

"Bring me your blessings, a prayer, or a new pen

You don't know what I need" You look in my bed and I'm bound to be sleeping

I'm lying there dead but I'm breathing And I'm barely balancing as it is

And I don't want to drown in my dreams

Bring me wild plums, wild plums and agrimonia

I bet you don't even know what that means Furious Rose, with your opiate eyes

Your languorous hum, that tone of surprise

I've heard energy in adversity, your smile, the soul of witchery

You're not running away, you're not running You're not running away, you're not running

You're not running away, you're not running, are you? Gingerly peering, over his shoulder

Removed herself from the room

She's terribly freezing, she always knows

When to go