'Twas on a red veil...

'Tis desecration. Will thee know it I pray. I tell you, I will pray. May He bless now my fingers as blessed He us in the limbo had I not known existed.

A bed, a bedspread, a rod of iron - a small cosh there on my chest. Were my eyes open for all the minutes counted me in these fingers of mine? He was above me in both connotations, whilst descried I the pale pallor of the ceiling over my head.

A textile - many kerchiefs sewn in stitches that still wore the lint as if out of my baby's bonnet, no tapestry nor any careful craft of hand either, but seamed on edges from where jut out the fringes - golden, violet, and green. You see my love, that was my futon would I find to sleep on.

What profanity must it be if worked I a nuance in the mind. Oh dear Holy Lord! Must Thee condemn me with perdition will that hell not be aware of;

What blasphemy it ought to be if expressed I my denial in words. Will it not oh God? So came the revolt from my red thighs - my blood from underneath, my blood within, my blood on his trews - and I, oh I burnt in quiet agony of my own kind.

On my red veil was it. Yes, I have it still in the sight of my eyes when from between the spaces of the louvre of my door, beheld I eyes staring into mine. Was it you Nick?

'Twas on my red veil I can tell when shook he my corpus in thuds of clamorous blows, but I saw a lightning discharge its spark on me laterally. Did you see it too? 

Oh my messiah on this ground hath my feet touched the cold soil of one to many times, may thee tell me for am I here to confide. Did you? 'Twas a blinding flash in a barrage of flicker after flicker across the meadow I found you at the end of.

My field was a burning hellfire.

I want to tell thee this. Oh I pray you say something this time.

 Am I on my knees about my window as the zephyr kicks the blurry pane of it time and again.

Am I already comfortable on the carpet, just yet to fold my hands.

Am I divested of my reliquaries. But say not alas my dear, say not, though will I always wish just as well if only I had any - would I offer the handkerchief has that thy name woven in its secret embroidery right on the left corner of its fabric.

'Tis to tell you that when your eyes saw me under the the silk of his raglan shirt, and when shone her wedding ring on the cornea of my eyes, my iris sought you in a bright light.

'Tis to tell you that when with those executions of force pressed into me, and could you not abstain the tears on your cheeks fell that straight from the bottom line of your eyes, so could I not just as well. So did I cede with the tears,very silently in a thin jet of salt that flowed past the edge of my forehead. 

One moment of a painful bliss - imposition of power upfront me, and concession in the shape of one's heart for me just outside my boudoir.

In moments of bleak, smirk,

You wonder how it will work?

And of misery, roar, chaos and quietude on masse, the torment is phenomenal.

Just like before, will I say it once more - oh my only shower of a drizzle in the middle of June! will I say it once more. 

I have my hands folded now, and bent as I am, my lips utter not more than just one prayer. I pray you read it to the end.

'Twas on a red veil when the hours lapsed and nothing was above me that was him, but you. Just when hope was all lost, and caught was I in the devil and the deep blue sea, were you the one above me, and I, I touched your arm as you did the same for a time I did not want to count.

Were we both aching in the pain of it, so you did it, and I lied still.

Was it on the red veil that touched our skins; was it on a red dress when saw I thy visage so closely that was it merely you against the entire abode there; was it on my red blood when made you my red veil white again.

Blessed may we be for that. Amen.