Lover Do


Oh the sun, the moon and the stars
Bathing light to the outcasts

From the throat of darkness gore
Down to the great valley of the shore

Tide ever so willing like my beloved’s tongue
To shelter me, une baisse, the trap’s sprung

The dire dungeon from which I ascend
To a bed of roses, lips curve and extend

Springs jump up, tendrils twine
Tentacles radiate to a harp’s unholy rhyme

Of love, in the dire entropy of two
Shadows merge, one flame, so blue

Death rattle nears, that moment of retreat
Exfoliated is desire, flint burning to sleet

How doth that miracle near her end
La petite morte, a little madness, append

We look up at the stars, celestial vanities in prime
Chateaus we build on the sands of time