The Lost Love
I wish to feel yer breath,
To feel yer pleasant touch,
To forget all the dread,
To not percieve the war as such.
My love, let me kiss yer sweet hair,
Lick my wounds with yer tongue,
Let me forget about the pain,
Say why everything has gone wrong?
Can you hold my trembling world?
All my feelings are now gone…
Why am i not like you bold,
Where is all the beauty born?
Yer face — pale and beautiful,
Yer curved hips, raising lust,
Dressed in white, my merciful,
Before ye, i turn to dust.
You have always been the strong,
But now i see a tear on yer face,
You shed tears of blood for the wrong,
And i still drink of yer grace.
But then the sword of war,
Yer sweet heart impaled,
Suddenly i saw everything you borne,
Now i see i have failed.
I see what i should have taken,
Now i sink in memory of yer grace,
I never thought you could be breaken,
I see yer bleeding heart and pale face.
Now blood flows on yer soft skin,
With my tears, below yer beautiful breast,
This is the deadliest sin,
Rusty sword in yer innocent chest.
Forth came the war — sound and bright,
Human flesh consumed by slow decay,
Yer frail body dressed in white,
Turning to ash in slow fire.