You started out as a dream, an illusion, an invasion of the thought.
  Slow torture; turned obsession.
     Fast Love; slow grief
My entrails exalting, my pulses exploding.
  With your fire you enslave me,
        & even after death
            I am tortured, when may I choose to be happy?

I am jealous of his laugh; that rings in my soul
and condemns me day & night,
it torments my dying mind,
like a comet in the sky,
amongst the beautiful stars,
it glows from afar,
as I continue to rot on the ground.
I am jealous of his laugh,
jealous I am not enough,
   jealous I am not him. . .

What a strange desire to drown,
   for this loves a sinking boat,
      pull me deep in purple and blue hues,
        the weight of my life in your waves,
           as I toss and I turn below the stars,
            constellations draw pictures of your face,
                listless, dark, dreary, drowning death
                       under your star, under your waves,
                              in this strange fascination
                                      to drown until we meet again.

Hold me like you used to do,
Let my thoughts run free to the moon,
      Let my arteries burn in lustful flame,
             Let me fall in love all over tonight,
for endless are my sorrows,
  so endless my miseries,
        I'm scared. . .
          so let me experience . . . love. . .
                at least for tonight.

It is not the pain itself,
It is the memory of having seen the bottom of the abyss,
The pain of each cataclysm, the pain of living torture.

It is the pain of these sleepless nights,
of this vile memory multiplied.
It is the pain of remembering your scent, It is the pain of this heart which beats through my poor crying soul.
The pain of reliving my abyss , full of nothingness, regret, empty , cold, desolate without you.

These memories bring me down,
     to the void, which I now climb alone.

To my heart that is dead,
deserted of hate and love already lost,
to my heart held by the brakes of my flesh,
I say unto you, stop your song; as I give the twilights of my life.
To be reunited with him once more.

My tenderness for you,
would like to be the grave; the land, so that you rest in my hands.
That is why at 2:48 AM, my alarming thoughts are purified.
As I quietly dig my own grave, u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶e̶t̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶'̶