To a Corpse

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In death reposest thou, and I in death repose.
Thou slain by an arrow, I am poisoned by desire.
While thou art full of blood, my cheek has lost its rose.
Bright candles by thy side, in me a secret fire.
In a shroud of mourning liest thou among the woes,
My senses in a horrid darkness trapped expire.
Thy hands are bound, my freedom’s gone; eternal throes
Of death have chained my mind upon a funeral pyre.
Thou speakest not, I cannot cease to moan all day.
Thy senses gone, I suffer from a dreadful pain.
Thou cold as ice, my entrails burn with flames insane.
Thy body soon will turn and into ash decay,
But I, a goad of my eternal blaze of lust,
Cannot disintegrate and simply turn to dust.