Young Men Cloaked in Black.

Hopeful, new, refreshed. A dance in a quick paced shower, a stranger on the other line, a white paper being rolled on my dirty floor. They are like no other, these familiar strangers I see walking in my dreams. They are my friends, they are my enemies, and they are right beside me. Lover, I have left you, but for good reason. Lover, I have left you, a search for eternal happiness. Lover, I have left you, because you are rooting me in the ground like an old oak tree. Lover, I will miss you.
They came through the city like ghosts in the night, young men cloaked in black, stealing my young body and the precious jewel I'd always held in my right hand. They took it from me, and I screamed, not in horror, no, not in agony, no, but in a burning pleasure. A desire. An earning. Lust. Lover, I do not regret leaving you. Lover, I don't even miss you. Lover, you would have never done this to me.
A soft little lie, "come with us," he spoke in a foreign tongue. I did, I followed, and now I will never look back. My hands are tied behind my back, my eyes are sewn shut, and my mouth has no energy to move. It is old and worn now. Too many nights on the dusty wood floor. My legs will not move, my knees are oh too swolen. Lover, I do miss you, but I cannot change my ways. Selling my soul for a nickle a day, just to pay for the home I will never return to.
I sit in the chair, they are gone now, they have all passed on now. I am alone in this dark, damp cave with my hands tied behind my back and a flame right below my gown. Lover, what happened to you? What ever did you do? Lover, did you exist without me?