So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move; 'Twere profanation of our joys, To tell the laity our love...
My sweet nothing...How shall I suffer thy loss? Thy continuous proliferation fills my days until I throb, with numbness still, I lost my voice, my heart, my quill. Teach me how to kill the time and I will kill thee through my ebbing hours, bury my thoughts, drink the draught of amnesia sweet, as I forget how to love, I may forget how to weep.
I brave the desert to earn my keep, caught in an hourglass, memories at my feet, teach me to tread softly past thy bower, teach me to live past this hour.
