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(…)
 
I want your pain to burden me as if its mine:
How I would relish the flesh of that sacred wine!
You had me stolen before our eyes were met—
And on the day that I die, I shall not forget
That only you could understand my blindness
As I sought the ruin in my own kindness.
Another day and another flower for you
Just to show the way my ghosts adore you.
 
I like to talk upward to your demons,
Through all the colors of the seasons.
They view the skillful way you enchant me.
I thank God for the way your devils haunt me.
Send me your broken petals here in Hell
My heart will burn and my slumber swell
With the voice of a dream that we can share:
A most holy vision of our own despair.
 
I thought I could understand my own pain,
But you taught me how to wonder again.
And I have more to say, thinking about you,
For I cannot reach the Elysian sky without you:
So many words that will go unsaid
In the yesterdays that lie waiting ahead.
Save me from salvation and I never will cry,
O! Help me, darling. Help me die.
 
© 2021 Marten Hoyle