Her [bad word] to me
As the night breathes
Her countenance grave
waxed pallor, that lays every tomb
open to the sky
So she sees and ever watches
The stars revolve and dance for her
velvet dream of crimson revolt
The rites of all... deliver her kiss to me
I ascend... erotic misery 

We are blood to the bloodless
We are honour to the honourless
and We are gods to the godless 

The [bad word] day hurts my eyes... it is night I ever long for 

If sorrows sweet gifts have offered me thus
I am all that has been and cannot refuse
As her smile has ushered in the night
So many countless times before
I hear a foot on the stair...
I turn and she is there.
With all the gifts of the grave to offer me 

How can I refuse
graven idol such as thee