I have come, caked with mourning,

seeking your company

like a dog. I have come

out of myself, out of my bed

of disillusionment, when I was

shocked into the real thing,

jarred out of myself. I have come

for you, perhaps,

if the moment permits it,

if the clouds part just a little more,

and the Sun plays its part,

warming my frigid skin

with memories of this.

I have come from the End.

I have come from the dead, my love,

and I have come because I love you.