We died for two hours. Silent. Pale.
My trembling fingertips still lost
In weary hazel curls, frail,
As the darkness waited, crossed,
For the final dialogue was hushed
Yet we spoke without a sound,
Thou a leaf in cement crushed
Of my ravenous tread, unbound,
Of my eternal torment, rushed.
I asked to love thee. I replied.
Of flesh was our dream spun
‘Nd on me chest thou dost abide
‘Nd of it all I am ashamed, undone.

Marco Delrio

Were It Love

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