Drink up my wine
since these dead and lonely dark nights prevail,
and countless, luminous stars will make you ordinary;
and you will yearn
whilst you struggle outside of me,
especially when caught up in these heaving times,
when precious ills pressed closest
to your undulating
chest, might cause you to succumb
or be fed whilst I am lost –
but you will learn that I am made up of hundreds,
and that you knew who I was –
till I married you –
but, please worship me still
amid cold comforts lost –
pray, come back inside,
leave naivety at the door
and, please beckon it not.
Let us be as it once was –
let us be as it should be.
Let us be love.