you have spent nights thinking of me, missing my arms but you needed to leave
[Uther, let this wounded silence end, or at least be so good as truly abandon me. As it is, I cannot close my eyes to you - you fill my mind when once the days left me to rest in blackness undisturbed. I wander in dreams not my own. What am I to do with these visions? Are they a warning or a punishment? Should I not savor your face as it is reflected back to me in the mirror as you shave? (You need a new razor, love. The dull one is angering your skin.) Shadows are not enough, when your scowls and smiles are not at me, or for me.
If I must be brought low again, stripped of pride and pretence, then flay them from me. If I must plead myself hoarse for what is left of my voice to be pleasing to your ears, then I do so plead. All that remains for me are these shadow-visions and the hope that I have loved enough to be taken back.]
If I must be brought low again, stripped of pride and pretence, then flay them from me. If I must plead myself hoarse for what is left of my voice to be pleasing to your ears, then I do so plead. All that remains for me are these shadow-visions and the hope that I have loved enough to be taken back.]