Aching for you while you ache inside yourself,
I yearn for your health and comfort, and for my satisfaction.
You are blinded by these shuddering stabs of pain.
You hurt all over, and I hurt to see you.
All we need is each other, our bed, our love.
Yet this sweeping sickness pulls us from warmth and joy
into a shaking ball of moans and a listless, loveless lover.
I fear for your pain and that you suffer more than you should.
Witnessing these weaknesses seems cruel and dark.
Desperate to numb your feeling, yet you are helpless.
My touch is nothing. Yours would be everything.
Your body churns and bucks. While mine brings only discomfort.
Our last night of love in golden luxury, tainted by this curdling, blackened pain.
