He saw her sitting on her high throne, her head was lowered a bit but a warm smile like honey on her lips. He sat beside her on the floor. The warmth of her closeness floading through him like sweet wine. Her silken, auburn curls framed her beautiful, slightly blushed face. She spoke lowly and in a sweet voice. Her words flowed out of her like a stream of warm, perfumed water, filling the room and making him become even more dizzy. For a moment she looked at him but he didn't notice that she looked through him. Speaking in shy, girlish words of him. O but not of him attending her here on the floor. Of some one else. Her mouth was hot and the blush on her cheeks darkened when she went on with her words. Her pale fingers, lying on soft layers of apricot lace and heavy brocade, were trembling from desire. But it wasn't him whom she desired, whom she longed for. Her clouded eyes looked like melting amber to him when she turned her head upwards and told about his eyes clear and deep as water, his more than well-shaped face, looking like a sculpture of Adonis made by Michelangelo himself. Her voice fainted, she looked so lost in her vision. He didn't hear her talking anymore and some kind of sickness spread in his body and made his limbs become dull. She looked down on him, the bones inside her white flesh hurt and she felt the blood thumbing inside her head. She swallowed and slightly wetted her dry lips. She knew that she was only talking about visions that would never come true. She threw a glance at him, lying on the floor. Her eyes turned cold. "O why does this world have to be so cruel?," she asked herself and layed two fingers upon her temple. She could feel the blood. The blood. Once more she looked down at him. She sighed and now there seemed to sparkle something like pity through the haze of her eyes. She played with a silken ribbon of her gown. Sank back in her throne. the little pearls on the lace of the dress were gleaming in the dim light of the fire. She shivered slightly though she wasn't cold. She closed her eyes. She looked as if she were sleeping. He looked up at her, still sick from her words. "Why not me?," he thought in a mixture of grief and rage. She opened her eyes as if he had said something. Silently she looked at him. He hesitated for a moment. She smiled a weak smile. "I have to go now..," he lied. She knew he lied but he thought she would believe him. "Yes.," she said. Nothing more. Her words didn't sound sternly but she hadn't spoken them in her soft, honeylike voice either. Without any more words he went away, struggling against the love inside his body, driven from his disappointment and ire. She watched him leaving. Remained on her damask seat. She felt weak and broken. She didn't care about his disappearance, soon being lost again in her thoughts about her one and only Adonis. The one she would never reach. Whose skin she would never feel against hers. Who would never hold her. Never, never, never. Silently she fell. Fell even deeper. Fell even more. Fell just like him, just like him, who was leaning against a cold wall and thinking about her.