Place your gentle hands on my skin, take me away to a fairytale
because I cannot bare reality.
I know when we are twisted under sheets, it's her who you see.
My body burns to feel you close
and be your only one.
Mask up my thoughts, I know she's there,
but when you sleep with me, it doesn't even matter.
One day you'll see, what I really mean, as you caress my flustered cheeks.
I don't really know what else to say, just constantly waiting, for the day, you walk
away

This is what I vow;
He shall have my heart to keep,
Sweetly will we stir and sleep,
    All the years, as now.
Swift the measured sands may run;
Love like this is never done;
He and I are welded one:
    This is what I vow.

    This is what I pray:
Keep him by me tenderly;
Keep him sweet in pride of me,
    Ever and a day;
Keep me from the old distress;
Let me, for our happiness,
Be the one to love the less:
    This is what I pray.

    This is what I know:
Lovers' oaths are thin as rain;
Love's a harbinger of pain--
    Would it were not so!
Ever is my heart a-thirst,
Ever is my love accurst;
He is neither last nor first:
    This is what I know.

Were you to cross the world, my dear,
  To work or love or fight,
I could be calm and wistful here,
  And close my eyes at night.

It were a sweet and gallant pain
  To be a sea apart;
But, oh, to have you down the lane
  Is bitter to my heart.

Travel, trouble, music, art,
   A kiss, a frock, a rhyme--
I never said they feed my heart,
   But still they pass my time.

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You'll never know.

Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, --
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ....
And what goes on, my love, while you're away,
You'll never know.

Woman wants monogamy;
Man delights in novelty.
Love is woman's moon and sun;
Man has other forms of fun.
Woman lives but in her lord;
Count to ten, and man is bored.
With this the gist and sum of it,
What earthly good can come of it?

When you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf,
  Nor singing sea at night, nor silver birds;
And I can only stare, and shape my grief
  In little words.

I cannot conjure loveliness, to drown
  The bitter woe that racks my cords apart.
The weary pen that sets my sorrow down
  Feeds at my heart.

There is no mercy in the shifting year,
  No beauty wraps me tenderly about.
I turn to little words--so you, my dear,
  Can spell them out.