III.

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I lost a sense of myself
in the silk of sadness,
sprawled on my bed
of lilies and night-long moans
in lingerie and stockings.


Come look for me.


This darkening heart of mine
desires one dulcet dream only—
to see you dauntless,
throwing your head back,
desperate and divine;


Ah, please
Come look for me.


And at last when you do,
Ah, my lying love,
like a longing prey for you
I will lament not
the loss of myself,
for I know well
with your lace-like touch
you will lift me
from this silk of sadness
and not only will I become
your little poet, no—
I will be ultimately pleased.


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