Not velvet nor the mauve cotton of kings

Rival the crown that rests atop your head

A coarse halo surrounds you, unnerving

I need no god, only you in his stead

​

As silky velvet dulls and cotton firms

As the evening star grows dim with envy

My heart you will continue to govern

With your lips: roses that drip with honey

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Should breath of life flow into me once more

I pray I am formed from your ribs alone

Lest I lay in unrest, a cavalier

Til into your very skin I am sewn

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So, till the grand return of the Messiah

I, your Samson and you my Delilah