The shadow I cast at night, is that of my soul on fire.   The shadows of my passion, cast onto the faces of others.   The shadow of a tall flame, one that rises the more it consumes.   The shadows within… cast themselves...

Are we gazing into the mere moments we have left? Not into each other's eyes, rather into the only time we have left? Rather than moments, let's gaze on into many years ahead! When we’re old and still in-love…

A haunting beauty you are moonlit,  mortality still flowing with passion.   A haunting romanticism our shared lips are, bathing together in crimson moonlight.    Your kiss lingers well beyond death, and beyond our last cold moment.   And there's a dominance in your kiss... Hopefully not eternal...  

When our cold moment begins... You lament about unspoken secrets. My lips meet yours and there's no warmth.   When our cold moment heightens... We are both intimate and distant.  You're neither here nor there.   When our cold moment climaxes... Your heavy breath frigid as we share...

You bloom at dusk...  just as the dead should. Your wilted scent  and bittersweet aroma... an echo of what was ours... nostalgia of what was lost.   A hauntingly beautiful scent, indeed! Then these stormy mornings  bring gentle mournings... when your grace has decayed! Your wilted petals now  blush in love...