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But all I remember are those eyes-
oceans outlined in dusk-violet,
skecthing my bare, moonlit figure
among wicked bedtime stories.

Oceans outlined in dusk-violet
bring me back to your bedside.
Among wicked bedtime stories:
I collapse, on the window's settee.

Bring me back to your bedside,
twist me in your catacomb sheets as
I collapse on the window's settee.
Don't let me walk away again.

Twist me in your catacomb sheets as
I contest your neck-nipping lure.
Don't let me walk away again,
bind me in your booked, olden ways.

I contest your neck-nipping lure
powering this hold over my raptured senses;
bind me in your booked olden ways.
You said I had only to ask it of you.

Powering this hold over my raptured senses
was your poison: a metallic taste.
You said I had only to ask it of you,
but when I called, you never came.

Was your poison a metallic taste
drained from a pulse? I heard you;
but when I called, you never came.
I dreamt of your final words

drained from a pulse. I heard you
sketching my bare, moonlit figure.
I dreamt of your final words
but all I remember are those eyes.