If you were found only after midnight, by ones too gone, young and wanting... If you could travel down the alleys and empty streets where great monuments that you are only passing weep under such a polished eye then you will know I am not here.
If you remembered all of your heroes, their likeness foreign as the distance of heaven, and you are ******, and you're not with them, Then you will know the reasons.
If you had woke to desolation, not frightened by it's sight or sound, then the burning page, poem, and the question would transcend the shadows cast where there is already so little light.
If you were not deceived by beauty for so long, and perfectly, would I have had you in the throes of my great and terrible affection.
If I could travel down the lightning of a whisper to your ear, would it make a difference?
If you were out for revelation, this once without the temptations of high parlor tricks, would you sink into the bottle as I have done