Chaste, and white as marble,
Unmoving, unmoved by my ardour,
The sculpted twist of her lips,
With blood-black forest fruit slicked,
I fear once more my heart lies,
This moment bleeds between us, it slowly dies,
Is one bitter kiss worth the tears?
Is it worth the memory that haunts the ever marching years?
Is it worth all the ink and wine I would waste,
In vain toil to regain that unforgettable taste?
This is the poisoned price of desire,
Casting eternal fuel upon the coldest fire,
Yet I bow down my head,
My heart strangled with dread,
My hand beneath her delicate chin,
I draw my breath in,
I tilt her marble face toward mine,
The lashes of her eyes, divine,
Our lips meet like fire and ice,
Even the coldest kiss is worth the price. |