In silence I sit, waiting for my sinister call,

expecting, anticipating your next touch.

Like moths in the great weft of it all,

we sit and whisper our desire, so much.

I sometimes think, wonder your presence,

you, my pathetic puppet in this game.

As if you were a lily I feel your scent in my nose,

wanting, carving for more as my heart desires fame.

And I let you fall,

like a moth in the great weft of it all.