i watch him
as he inspects the rose held in his long fingers
and i realise for the first time
how fragile he is.

there are dark shadows beneath his eyes
and bruises on his milky skin
from my tight grip on his hips when we last made love.
his lips are still bruised from my kisses.

sometimes he seems to
struggle breathing
but i can't tell if it's the illness
or exhaustion.

at night he whispers to me
as he kisses the pads of my fingers
as he strokes my chest
as he takes me in his hot mouth

his eyes say
"i love you".
with each breath he is
dying.

you sit sullenly at the window
casting a perfect
moonlight silhouette
on the floor

your silken curls
graze your neck
and your long fingers
are folded neatly in your lap

would you break
like alabaster
if in a fit of passion
i lost all abandon?

and would you sacrifice yourself
for my sins
child of david, my lamb
like a statue of alabaster?

the moon says to me
"you are mine
come with me
come far away"

but i go with you
to sit on the chalky cliffs
inhaling the salt spray
sharing *****
and bodies

in the rotunda we sit
gazing at flowers
your fingers entwine in mine
your breath takes my kiss away

the moon says to me
"come far away"
so i go

and though i leave you
you must not forget
our kiss in the dreamhouse