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.