Each kiss of his is a mercy killing
falling hard, filling my mouth like a grave
in the winter stillness, unforgiving

Sent without suspicion, spilled onto page
lifting his love from the screen, fulfilling
with precision a prophecy so brave

We fall to Braille knees, feeling up nothing
in the night blindness of lost cinemaze
in the winter stillness, unforgiving

Not knowing we’re running out of these days
each hit of his purples these lips, bruising
with precision a prophecy so brave

As if film absolves his guilt for calling
off our masquerade, what we entertained
in the winter stillness, unforgiving

A season spent dangerously, living
large, back when I gave him his first stage name
in the winter stillness, unforgiving
with precision, a prophecy so brave.