Frail one, to my door,
Where you’ve heard these screams before.
Where my limbs had once crashed
To the floor,
And had then risen
To meet your throat,
With a solid grip to drain life away.
Pain and shame is now an empire,
Among all the redness to your lips.
You’ve tasted blood,
Have you not?
Your dream for loneliness
Has become a sheer reality.
Love should be a nest of caresses,
All I see is ash falling from your tresses.
Your face is a light of resplendence,
With each hue always new,
And each lash above your eyes,
When it falls,
Shows all the blackness I’ve always tasted.
You will come to where I have died,
To where all words of love,
Were merely words to make us cry.
Pain is now our highness,
With isolated thorns upon your crown,
And the disease that drenches your hands,
Is merely the blood from my heart.