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broken glass of your promises
The Master-Mistress of my passion. Not amorous--let it be--yet beloved. Giving yourself to sacrifice, you love the mystery of a non-giver. You are in love with the lovemaking of our bodies, giving me your flesh instead of your soul. In the hyacinth fields there are you and me, posterity of the ancient stellar gods--obedient and blind. You’ve been captured by me, who was wounded and captivated. Moonlit divine service every night. Your offerings--my incantations. You may call it ‘rubbish’, ‘mania’, but you know how I love you, appeasing your ardour and desire. Nothing to lose. All I want is you.
