this day was not like any other.
hot air from her lungs
swirled steam in the death
of November.

I felt trust for the first time.
I trusted her to leave.

I crack a corny joke out of sheer anxiety,
I say: "Well, it is the fall."

She doesn't smile, or speak, of course.

She does the talking with her eyes,
and all I hear is goodbye.

In the morning he was gone,
A silver streak like morning dawn,
That came creeping up my window,
Like a brilliant thief.

Robbing me of ***** nights,
Tender kisses filled with fright,
Stolen from my willing lips,
Like forgotten prayers.

No return to be expected,  
To my lover’s will I’m fated,
To watch him leave and breath a sigh,
Like a child gone awry.

And if I ask that he returns,
To my bed of pain,
My lover will most surely laugh,
Declaring me so plain.

For this house is now a tomb,
My soul is dying in this room!
A gift bequeathed by forbidden nights -  
A daily price for mating rights.