Is this flame an image of the end supposed Intolerable in the course of the sensations, Or an effort to brand you on my imagination?
I'm burining
An illusion Mingled with your active but impatient process to Evade the lost dailiness, and My ugly emptiness perceived through That delightful defiance to seize The complexity of and between you and me.
A wish to Devote myself to something That would be reconstructed in me, That would give me an ecstatic perspective.
The heat from your red ear with a glass of Mimosa I then recommended you, the Scent of your tears hidden by a white handkerchief and the Breeze from your trembling painfully fragile body.