It's been so long since last I felt
Your strong arms enveloping me,
The passion of your heart coursing through them
To invade my very bones with your love.
It's been far too long, dearest,
Not since that terrible day
When you asked the question I could not answer,
And I foolishly answered in contempt instead of shame.
Perhaps I felt the shame all too keenly--
Perhaps I could not bear to admit it aloud,
Even as loudly as it cried to me from within.
It was that foolish pride, that fear of shame
That drove you from me, was it not?
For from that very day,
I saw the light fade from your eyes,
The passion from your very limbs,
And maybe even the love from your soul.
But now, tonight of all nights, I need it most.
Once again, I hear the shame of my soul calling,
For I have once again committed a terrible act.
I cannot tell you what I have done, can I?
The last time I confided in you thus,
You ceased to show your love for me,
The love that was once so very visible.
This second confession, would it not push that dim love
Into the pit of oblivion?
Would I not lose it altogether,
Lose even the chance of ever winning it back?
If I could be sure that your fading love would not die,
I would tell you,
For it weighs heavy on my heart, this treacherous sin.
If he hadn't forced me into it,
I would never have agreed to the hellish plot . . .
Oh, there are so many ifs to be asked.
Who knows if tonight might have gone differently,
Had the circumstances not fallen as they did?
But this if I am certain of;
If you will hold me, like you used to,
For the space of a few seconds I could forget.
I could forget about my transgressions,
About my brother,
About the man placed in certain danger because of me . . .
Please, I know things can never be the way they were again between us,
But can't we, for just this one night,
Can't we at least pretend?