And take away
This unholy pain
From the woman I once loved,
She needn’t suffer this much
In this winter of winters.
Her face, once an aura of bliss,
Her form, once taken by me, beneath sheets of white.
And blankets made of the softest velvet,
Quilts made of skin.
A mattress made of us,
And sweat pours over like the rain, from above.
I am grieving
Over this masked beauty
Who once saw me with the happy smile
Of a thousand-and-one loving whiles.
Beauty comes and goes,
As it is said.
But, I am one to know
That it should last an eternity.