When the wind blows, the fires cruise
The soft, damp heat onto my face,
A clear sensation of burning warmth
That I could never feel the need to replace.
The water's wetness on my skin,
The temptation of the lion's kiss,
All these touches slowly rock me
Into a sleep of monstrous bliss.
Smelling skin within my reach,
I feel the presence of a bird
That sings a song so sweetly, low
Like the darkest, sacred lull of words.
Although I speak in just few breaths,
I find the need to say my curse:
A sweet, soft whisper in your ear,
"You are the love I pray not disperse."
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