Lay upon the bed,
My dear newlywed,
So that you may hold hands with death.
I have retreated back to my clouds,
Because, I do not live in a cave,
As much as I have surrounded myself with loneliness,
Weep for my shame,
And I will not hear it.
Weep, because our home is filled with cobwebs,
You are the newlywed,
And you are now dead.
Your bones are as white as the bridal gown,
With a tad of red rouge upon a tooth.