In the darkness of this marble room I watch her
Bracelets of shadows upon her wrists,
Her thin arms curling faintly,
as she dances softly in the woods.

This lonely creature who stares at the pear trees
She looks at me—
And I am beckoned to understand her death
She believes I will soothe her while she is lost

She comes to me, giving me her childish hauntings
Her hair maddens, glimmering darkly like the sea
And her eyes of ethereal porcelain,
That are silent even as they burn.

I dare to hold her, and whispers fall into my famished arms
Still her lucid body lies at my side
Her presence aches—
I cannot touch those ivory limbs of silk

My tired hands – look how they shake
I am loving a child in my madness
Clinging to this gentle infection
Her voice flowers warmly in all my gloomy raptures

And it is better to remain in these murky dreams
Where the pain is frail; forbidden
Where her silhouette will not leave my walls, my bed of fever—
Where I weave shadows into gold