Till life does us apart

Death my queen! My one true love!

I ache, I pine for your caress.

Your kiss, your womb, your earthy cove

Sans thought, sans word, sans distress

My thought, my deed, my destiny

all swirl towards your fatal end.

My song, it swells to an elegy

always always its paths thus wend.

Life, the witch, the faerie queen

She has me in her trance like thrall.

Lust and angst and hope and spleen

like whips they fall in endless squall.

Her spells, her charms, her lifeless art,

they cast me like a leaf in breeze.

I float, I flit, I drift apart;

a sinking boat in shore-less seas.

She keeps me there at the brink of death,

teasing me with transient joy.

I die, I die and yet take breath.

Now a man now just a toy.

But I live, I hope and fain aspire.

For you are there Lethe's,[1] draught.

In all my work and all desire

T'is is you, t'is you, t'is you I sought.

So make my bed, my funeral pyre.

Tarry not, my beating heart.

The end is nigh, o nigh, my sire,

T'is only till life does us apart.

[1] - pronounced lee-the (rhyming with pithy)