The life in him runs under the skin, under my hand, running through the splotches, smelling up into my nose
Where the sickness is beginning to cry, vomiting the crying, and then i can breathe vomiting it
It lies dead and warm upon me, touching me naked through my clothes
It was not that i could think of myself as no longer unvirgin, because
The shape of my body where i used to be a virgin is in the shape of
An empty door frame
The lowly dwelling where another erring mortal lay
Love, he called it
Bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
That son of a bitch
I knew that fear was invented by someone that had never had the fear of living
Then it was over
From the terrible blood, to the red bitter flood
On the clothes we both wore
He confessed to God,
And forgiven was he, but what about me
Have I not wrestled thigh to thigh with Satan himself?
I guess people to whom sin is just a matter of words, to them salvation is just words too
For me it was not over
Haste me to know’t that I with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of “love”
May sweep to my revenge
And I lying calm in the slow silence
Waked to discover it
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?
He was gone