With

If we were born to be lonesome

Without a caption or claim

Would the sun exclaim eternities of rays

And feed the paltry pores of my single face

And breed motifs, like days, not to relate?

If I should dance in my room

Naked, having just bathed

With the past kisses dry on my skin

Again, the bliss has already been

Dismissed with luxury, utterly

Sustained within the body's bin