His heart was still living in his mind.
He's still reading the green letter of his fancy,
still reminiscing the stories they once have.
He's still revising them in the deep of night.
Smokes from the dead candlelight...
Her soldiers came
and knocked him, not on his door.
He rubbed his eyes after yawn
and watched himself become a rug,
behind these bars, on the greasy floor.
He asked why. "It's the order."
He asked when. "By the dusk," they said.
"Wherever your treasure is,
there your heart goes."
were the very last words he penned.
Outside the bars, he breathed fog. On a lit platform he stood,
he saw their thumbs running on their necks.
No words were spoken but still it sentenced his death.
He understood that his name, her treasure,
has sinned to her face, his heart, his fancy.
He begged for her forgiveness
but she was Eiffel stiff...
The crowd, her friends, cheered for him to become two. They fired tomatoes like leeches on his face. Engraved him the color of shame. Still, he never minded all of those...
Still he didn't worry for it is enough to know that he owned her heart for a time.
It is enough to know that in the years they've spent, she learned him too well.
She learned him too well, she, the intelligent girl.
She knew he will still pocket her
even she slayed him with thirst
or horned him to the bulls
or daggered his depths.
He will never mind all of those.
She knew she will still live in his mind
so she asked Joseph to help her in the gloom.
CUT—

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