There's a hollow in my head filled with whispers
and I want it to be vacant,
so to make way for the silence of your footsteps.
You taste of vomit and smell
of reeking flesh upon the bone,
picking petals from the grove until there's nothing left but stone again.

Across the floor we meet each other,
two men from different worlds,
it's funny how the checkerboard makes pawns of us.
You speak a tongue I loathe yet how I wish that I could own it,
underneath the silk of words I see the brashness of your tone.

I wanted you,
I hungered,
upon the sand of time I floundered helpless.
Until in your shoes, I saw that there is no help for men like us.
And that they, while beautiful are the whispers in the hollow,
how I wish to kill the words we uttered
and sink away in silence.

There is no help for men like us... no.
There is no help for me, I can only watch you
take their smiles
I can only watch it
helplessly.
And in the time it took for you to take what I had built,
I gave you, foe, all that I ever put aside for me.