I afflict you with a mutinous night,
I brand you with it’s terrible star.
You, so well put together and kept like a tower,
see how what you were recoils in terror
from your face of besieged pleasures.
I give you my primitive loam.
You shed your name, your eyes.
I reveal my swift skin
that loves the continents of your young body.
You sense a loss of homeland.
I want you to realize, my darling,
what this mutinous night is for,
exhaust this blue wick of sadness.
I want you to cherish
the extent of our desolation,
while you and I are nothing more than
forehead, breast and nape,
entwined in a void of love.