“I would come in a shirt of hair I would come with a lamp in the night And sit at the foot of your stair; I would flog myself until I bled, And after hour on hour of prayer And torture and delight Until my blood should ring the lamp And glisten in the light; I should arise your neophyte And then put out the light To follow where you lead, To follow where your feet are white In the darkness toward your bed And where your gown is white And against your gown your braided hair. Then you would take me in Because I was hideous in your sight You would take me in without shame Because I should be dead And when the morning came Between your breasts should lie my head. I would come with a towel in my hand And bend your head beneath my knees; Your ears curl back in a certain way Like no one’s else in all the world. When all the world shall melt in the sun, Melt or freeze, I shall remember how your ears were curled. I should for a moment linger And follow the curve with my finger And your head beneath my knees— I think that at last you would understand. There would be nothing more to say. You would love me because I should have strangled you And because of my infamy; And I should love you the more because I mangled you And because you were no longer beautiful To anyone but me.”
— T.S ELIOT THE LOVE SONG OF SAINT SEBASTIAN
