You've asked me to stop speaking to you,
You've asked me to leave you alone.

Can the wind stop speaking to the mountains?
Can the sun divorce itself from its shadows?

My very heart brands me betrayer,
For doing as you ask.

You were life to me, my golden vault,
The bird of pure pleasure soaring to heaven with my soul in your hands.

Your eyes and your smile were as the clearest night sky,
Full of mystery and potential and mirth.

I could do nothing except love you,
When your voice and your eyes and gentleman's hands respected me.

And when you dove into the ocean of the beginning of passion,
I opened my arms and my mind to that future
That you are killing now.

Like a sparrow fallen from winter's frozen tree,
It is not apparent whether I succumbed to the cold or to the falling itself.

There is no bird who can stand the plummeting doom
Of falling from Heaven to Hell in fewer than ten words.

Your lips and your hands, the very tools of love,
Become my murderers.