A whitened web
of lace and lattice
enshrouds your face—that oval
of sable skin is the graceful ideal
of a swirling nebula
You are my beloved, called forth from
an endless echo
of boundless beauty—the tableau
that inspires all my art and compels my ardor
for your piercing, ebon gaze
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Author Notes
"It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain." ---Carson McCullers from The Ballad of the Sad Cafe,
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