I do not dare to speak its name
Though twisting, burning on my lips
That thing that itches, dancing plain
Steps catching fast, precarious
Oh! Hateful thing
Oh! Wordless vow
You beckon me so recklessly
On fell-dove's wing,
Crook'd finger, how
I think about it endlessly.
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 11:19 PM UTC
I do not dare to speak its name
Though twisting, burning on my lips
That thing that itches, dancing plain
Steps catching fast, precarious
Oh! Hateful thing
Oh! Wordless vow
You beckon me so recklessly
On fell-dove's wing,
Crook'd finger, how
I think about it endlessly.
