I write to you in confidence
That you will understand
This poem acts as recompense
For that which I demand.
I beg you do not come to me,
Although it is the end.
I know you’ll ask how this could be,
To leave your sweetest friend.
For only it seems natural,
That we should face the close,
With fingers clasped, so near in all,
To whisper softest prose.
But should you try to comfort me,
My pain will only grow.
Your presence speeds up time, you see,
So sooner I would go.
I’d rather miss your last embrace,
And have more time to think
Of love for you which I did taste
From Heaven’s finest drink.
As now I sit in solitude,
My death it surely comes,
But since I am away from you,
Its march more slowly drums.
Our distance grants more hours, you see,
To cherish what we have,
So deeper in my soul you’ll be
When it decides to pass.
