I know your body as one who has crossed many deserts, riding through harmattan nights on thirsty camels: your trees, your rolling hills—landmarks my fingers have traced. Here, your fountain I've drank from. Here, the shade and warmth you make. Here, your boulders and mountains firm. Here, your tears, my early morning fog. I am still with you darling, sole rider in your hurricane. My withering bulwark is the thin of your lips where my dreams lie unattended...

I know your body as one who has crossed many deserts: guided only by wind and sand, typhoons and familiar scents—searching behind the nape of your neck for an oasis. I am lost and my heavens have disappeared. My skies are ebbing and my constellations have become black. Yet I am still with you darling, sole rider in your desert night. This smile on the thin of your lips, you are my evening star...