He has the love of a woman,
as weak as its savage strength
No seedy, repugnant desire of man
It is this love I cannot deny
I wither, it is not mine
I am allotted only pieces
Fragments–
whose ends, once coupled
would hold the power and depth
of earth
The heavy scent of inseparable union
in beauty
and in pain
My aching overwhelms, even
the abortion of sweet patience
to taste the fullness of his womanly love–
crushed, worse maimed
broken, yet sickly joined
to the force that has crippled it
Can my heart withstand
this slow and silent mutilation
of tender passion, remorse
Decaying my soul and being
Carving its hollow in my core
Never to fill again
with manly love
Exalted, I embrace
the agony of infinite damage
I sacrifice
and betray my self
to the hallowed and merciless power
And lie bleeding
with open wounds
I cannot leave it