Sui generis she is, and as I watched her,
my cruel amans, riding her salacious
pirouette of grace and sin,
I knew the esse of just one
finespun tear must be exquisite
upon the tongues of Gods.
I wept as the green river snatched away
the skyís obsidian ink;
she's so arrogant when she wears black.
She tore me shut and Iím drenched
in this night, and in her,
and I don't even know her name....
But she says she knows mine.
And If my weary legs
might still carry the weight of my breath,
I will stand as she calls it.