Unseen

Unseen her face, the spectre in the water, does she hide aught? If she were, my flower, what would you be? As it is, I'm your downfall. For I am the flower, and I'm about as good as dead. Nourished by your own light, I'll succumb to your lust just like umber in the morning. I've been split by a fever, I don't know if I'll get it back up a twitching again; but at least I'll have something to dance to.

Unseen how she wears her clothes, I'm sure they don't add up to much, let's just pretend they do, let's pretend we're bigger than we are. Tied to the bed like a puppet, let's make it quick and painless, so we can dance to the sun.