Each dim dark year,
As conquered sphere burns,
I quiver from
your cold cascading caress.
I whimper,
"Thank you,"
My defiant belov'ed;
For memories of what once were.
Your crystalline tortures,
unique and sharp,
Cut me as they lash
Sanguine tender flesh.
Stoking,
Stroking
Fires within…
transfixed
ogling
I yearn,
I beg,
I must know…
"Will this be
your swan song?
Our last dance?
Whenever will you go?"
not yet…
please
Me, I pray.
Yet…
My heart hastens:
To barter,
To plead,
To deny,
And always never to accept.
I need you.
stay
I miss you.
don't go
Please.
(Oh so desperate now!)
Please…will you call again?
