That is a cry to you.
My blood beats out your name to me, unceasing, pitiless—
Your name, your name.
My body talks about you in the night,
My hand says soft, “His hand is like a shield.”
My cheek grows warm, remembering your lips.
My arms reach blindly out into the dark;
My pulses say, “We cannot beat without him;”
And my eyes do not speak at all, for what they know is beyond being said.
My body talks about you all night long.