I will not be your slave within your bed.
You tempt and tease, insatiable your taste:
seducing all, they fall for you to waste
themselves – losing minds in bestial stead.
You smiled at me that night, sweat glinting steep
against the heat we made – in bed you cried,
embraced me tightly like a treasure, sighed,
and I was finally moved, perhaps, to weep –
But over pillow talk I knew your name.
Your mane of flying hair splashed everywhere
spelt Sadness – and I fled far from your lair,
the morning singing, blinking, still the same.
What were you thinking when you smiled? No, wait –
you didn’t smile – I don’t remember what
it was – a grimace? – and your eyes fell shut;
you slept – my hips against your body’s weight –
I slept with you but once, buried in sadness.
I suckled sadness from your breasts. Alas,
I do not know how happiness can bless
my sanity, or save me from your madness –
but I’m determined not to stray again
to you, O Sadness, and your sultry pain.