He kisses upon my lips,  
expecting an apocalypse.

Yet my heart beats dry when he looks into my eyes.
The closer he pulls me, the farther I push his touch away.
I try to speak his name,
but I moan yours in hopes of ecstasy.

The memory of you has branded itself upon my mind.
I long for the sweet nectars of your flower,
but instead I am stabbed by his sword.