I "should not" destroy you, cheat you, frighten you, or hurt you. But I have scrapped every corner of my heart and still have not been able to find love. You say that you have a habit of scratching your sex partner when making love. For the first time in your life, in order not to hurt me in your passion, you have made the sacrifice of cutting your fingernails.
I remember lifting each Each of the half moons on those nails and putting them, one by one, to my lips. Please forgive me, it is a gesture I have repeated with other women In my lifetime. Each time, I have tried to retrieve the emotions of that first time, a time that is now as distant as though it had happened in another century.
Now, kissing nothing but the end of your fingers carriers another kind of "significance".... Again forgive me, you see I have been suckled on that word. You sit serenely on a square stool by my bed. In Springfield you had seen how I went crazy, now you have come to see how I die. I am glad to be able to put on a show for you, to perform the complete and final act. Now you will finally know what type of man I am. And I will finally enter the role of the character I'm playing. You always wanted me to tell you the various ways I died, I have a extremely gifted tongue, but I can still act out death more vividly than I can verbalized it. You spread your hands before my eyes, but I lack the energy to kiss those ten half moons. I can only smile, although this final smile has its own significance. For I see by your hands that you have been waiting, all this time, to make love with me again. Since we last parted ways, you have been keeping your fingernails trimmed. As I predicted, the second half of our story has been woven by you own imagination.
All you can do now is cover my lips with five of those half moons.
"Don't talk," I hear you say.
Yes, do not talk, I have already said too much. Spoke too many empty words and lies. Asking me to say less is asking that I commit fewer sins.
Finally, I see five half moons rise again. Those fingers which once clawed me now ever so gently close my eyes . If not you, then who should I love? I had been flapping around broke wings, searching for a place to land, when you caught me, and taught me to come home to roost in the fulfillment of satisfied lust. How simple and yet how fruitful love turned out to be.
Please forgive me for not leaving you anything.
You still, however, have your imagination. Up to my very end, you have seen significance in everything.
