When I’m having weird thoughts:
“I don’t love her any longer” —
Whose pale hands then grab my soul
Ever stronger, ever stronger?
Whose dolorous, dear eyes
Quietly scatter my frustration
Underneath the falling skies,
Burning up with adjuration?
And again, till nighttime ends,
Having cursed my grunge existence,
I am kissing her pale hands
And her eyes with such persistence…
Bramphature 