-

My love, ever so cold and daring.

Your hands, the warmth of blood.

Above the arms which it flows in,

Are the marks of an attempt to soothe.

Graceful, red veils lay under the skin,

Shedding themselves in the moonlight.

This night, I have left for a squander,

At finding reasons and past valor.

Blow after blow I have only given,

Left to write and cry and ponder.

An heavy burden crushing me,

I wonder what I can tell you.