| The undeniably straight archer is dead.
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| Sadly masculine his naked body lies beside me,
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| stretched out on the pale sheets
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| of my otherwise deserted bed.
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| I do not know how he got here.
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| I am not even sure, if I am hiding him.
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| Trophy or lost property … -
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| did I drag him to this place,
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| slave to some dark desire,
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| or have I merely found him here
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| in childlike innocence and curiosity?
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| Assuming blackness,
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| his left nipple is now facing me … -
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| the same old symbol for reality,
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| further than ever from attraction
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| (except, of course, for crawling things).
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| But we’re all crawling on some floor … -
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| you will not tease me, nevermore!
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| His head now points towards the window in the west,
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| his feet towards the door,
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| his limbs in slight disorder
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| after my vain attempt to move him over
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| to a slightly different position.
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| I fear that the disturbance of his rest
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| has caused some liquid «correspondence»
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| to escape his quiet, oh so human shell.
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| What secrets do you hide in there?
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| Leaning my face against the left side of his flesh,
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| I place my right hand gently now upon his belly,
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| hoping not to wake the horrors of that
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| half-forgotten sense …
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| I can’t believe that I do actually consider this again:
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| I must refuse to share my bed now
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| with carcass of a man!
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| No vicious jokes to break the fragile little heart,
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| this is the deeper secret of the worlds we are apart …
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| Is this perhaps some kind of test?
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| Shall I have vengeance on your flesh?
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| Now that you’re dead am I supposed
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| to inflict that sentence on your corpse?
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| To pay you back the laughter,
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| that never really flooded from your mouth.
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| Would your thin lips have ever released
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| such agony and shame on me?
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| Scared to death by and of my own request … -
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| maybe like this it’s really for the best.
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| I’ll seal your carcass with a kiss … and let you disappear… |