Coffin

In the crimson jewellery box,
Laced by a golden tag,
Lies a scarlet dagger gem,
Bound in a silver bag,
A sharp edged trinket,
Bought in Rome,
Now under lock,
Within my home,
Your ridges, rough,
Could paint a chest,
Dark red with blood,
You'll pass the test,
I turn the key,
And lift the lid,
Slide out the drawer,
And place my bid,
I draw your hilt,
Out from your bag,
Unsheathe the blade,
Remove your tag,
I hold you, still,
In my left hand,
And travel through,
These twilit lands,
Towards the house,
Upon the hill,
Where I can hear her,
Breathing still,
The black crows fly,
In skies above,
They watch the kill,
With lust and love,
They watch me drive,
The sharp tip through,
Towards her life,
For blood, anew,
I place my hand,
Upon her heart,
And draw it out,
Through secret art,
Insert the dagger,
Near her vein,
A gift of death,
A gift of gain,
And take the heart,
Back to my room,
Among the dust,
And shadowed gloom,
I cage the glass,
Within a clasp,
And slip it through,
Encased in brass,
I slowly close,
The crimson box,
In which her heart,
A vixen fox,
Lies, glowing red,
Time shading clocks,
A coffin from,
A jewellery box.