The passion and desire from the days of absence
The fever of the return,
The desire only fed by her
Wept within his sleeping eyes.
He’d enter with softness
And there he would keep her,
Until it was time to leave her.

And days would go by,
He’d be filling her space secretly,
Willing himself to release her.
Then after hours and days
He’d tap lightly at her door,
Look deeply into her eyes
And stole the life from within her.

Finally he broke
And the truth he spoke.
When he left again, she lay there
Helpless and cold upon an empty room floor.