I can't explain how ordinarily brazen words
Are carefully pronounced, softly and lightly.
Tasting as ripe and as sweet as rotten fruit
Over such roseate lips.

You have an echo inside a skull that once
Had been a keen cradle for life
And such wild, passionate thought.
One day soon, you'll be driven mad.

There was such loveliness in those heavy green nights.
I remember your cheekbones like razors.
I was so afraid to stroke them, lest I cut my finger.


I'll admit your awkward attributes without fondness
And expect to garner no omission from your anger
I'm embittered when it is almost a strategic decision
For you to conveniently love.

I will explain the eminent bloodless union
And how my fire is by far the worst,
Even when your mind screams out for its first need,
Knowing there is something wrong. Somewhere.
Damning tenebrous stains that thieve all attraction
And entrancing fervour from any other passions
Reminding you how we spoke wildly, and especially
When our minds were hot and burning.


I want it, yet your hostile beauty does not extend
To the blanched reaches of my ardency
Soon our strains will be about equal
And I'll cease to address you through the course of songs
We'll be dark and lost. Poisoned with the last drop of our serum.


Such is You, with your head in the tomb clutching dark
Such is I, with my hands in the earth,
Clutching dust.


Penned by my hand on the 25th of Slyphian, in the year 179 MA.