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I lost a sense of myself in the silk of sadness, sprawled on my bed of lilies and night-long moans in lingerie and stockings.
Come look for me.
This darkening heart of mine desires one dulcet dream only— to see you dauntless, throwing your head back, desperate and divine;
Ah, please— Come look for me.
And at last when you do, Ah, my lying love, like a longing prey for you I will lament not the loss of myself, for I know well with your lace-like touch you will lift me from this silk of sadness and not only will I become your little poet, no— I will be ultimately pleased.
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