Who wouldn't, knowing your every gesture
Is of love, perfectly understood
By the sun of others,
To find you do not know
What love is, at all ... for you are told
Such love does violence to the way they feel,
What they know.
This place where you lay requires permission,
But from whom? The one who understands
Has no need to speak. On the other hand,
The one whose sole possession is
Unyielding animosity, will whisper
Absolution, so beautiful it burns.