Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, From waiting to not waiting for you My heart moves from cold to fire. I love you only because it's you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you Is that I do not see you but love you blindly. Maybe January light will consume My heart with its cruel Ray, stealing my key to true calm. In this part of the story I am the one who Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

When I got the chance I asked them a slew of questions. They offered to burn me; it was the only thing they knew.

Raw hatred took its time making an outpost of its rage and prepared for me a savage crown with rusty, bloodstained spikes. It wasn't pride that made me keep my heart at a distance from such terror, nor did I waste on revenge or the pursuit of power the forces that came from my selfish griefs or my accumulated joys. It was something else-my helplessness.

Today is today, and yesterday is gone. There is no doubt.

Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness