A Katryn Lima

Kiss me like in the days of old

And tell me sweet tales of glee!

The skeletal hands of Death, so cold,

Rend through my heart, mercilessly;

You are the only one who can bring me a cure –

Never deprive me, please, of your presence so pure!

Lay with me! I shall drink from the Lethean shore;

I want to forget, even if for a day,

My accursed existence which I withered away

And care only about us and not a thing more!