Fingers stretched seeking to hide within a lover’s palm.
My body lying on the cold marble floor like it’s already dead.
The illness like a demon spitting blood out of my lips.
There is no voice to scream, to call, to plead for him.
In another’s arms he sleeps digging my grave.
Another body feels his warmth, swallows his passion
as I stir and turn like a wounded animal
preparing to enter my death chamber, to sleep forever under a cross.
His love fleeted before my eyes, fleeted beyond my grasp.
It trespassed all my defenses and left me weak,
Dying alone with only company my royal blood
Is it the illness killing me or is it his absence?
I have withered, hidden in these grey walls
Waiting for his return stanched with another’s aroma
Finding peace only in watching him sleep
Cradldling him when he is not conscious to deny it.
Many times I have let him untie my corset.
How many times I let him penetrate my depths!
And in this dying hour it is only his memory that escorts me
For the rest of him is missing in cheating desire.
The marble is stained with blood, or with betrayal?
The death I awaited is coming to snatch my soul
If there was a soul I would deliver with piousness
But it has shrank and died, only the memory remains.
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