My love, I called out but you would not sing.
Lanterns in my temple darkened. The moon
Shone crimson. No owl or insect was heard.
I lit a match beneath that sharp shadow.
I held it until my fingertips singed.
I quickly lit another. Nothing moved.
I was alone and had no grand desire
But your arms around me. Impossible.
I will not need to call your name again.
Light a match! Tremble at my blasphemy!
For I have made another one of you,
And I have imprisoned that one within me.
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