The bright moonlight bleaches colour from everything it touches, all around us is either black shadows or silver highlights. The full moon itself hangs above us in the black sky, full and heavy, as ripe and plump as a perfect peach. As ripe as you were once, my dearest, when you were in your pomp and prime. And I could neither squeeze you too much nor not enough, my sweet.

You were so beautiful once, my love. As soon as I clapped eyes on you in your diaphanous gown as you flowed down that fabulous stairway into that suddenly hushed ballroom, I wanted you for my very own.

I was never happier when you told me later that night that you felt the same and I have been truly yours ever since, and will be yours forever more.

Tonight I touch the cold marble of your heart-shaped headstone. The white funerary stone glows in the silvery moonlight. I run my fingertips along the freshly incised lettering signifying the consonants and syllables of the name I still worship as a goddess as if you were still fresh sprung from Jupiter’s loins.

You made me who I am, my Dear, and I was always your willing adulate. Forever in my heart, I hold you close, as if you were still my dear sweet bride, though that memorable induction ceremony into the maelstrom of your life was a whole lifetime ago.

In my heart, my dear sweet lady, you will always be immortal. How can mere Death combat a deep and yearning Love that will exist within my aching breast for eternity?

You had so much energy, my dearest love. In the vibrancy of your youth, you were so full of life that an ending to such a glorious existence appeared to be impossible. You were like a well-head of life, you brought me to life because before you my entity was merely one of existence without purpose. Oh how I remember your lips that first night, full and plump, as crimson as blood, your firm yet yielding flesh fuelling and enriching my utter devotion to your very existence. You gave me a reason to want to live forever in your afterglow.

You were majestic, compelling, your Eastern European accent exotic, alluring, elevating. Privileged we were, admittedly, your endless wealth spared us both the need for daily toil, as the teeming masses below us were forced to do.

No, we lived only for the fulfilment of our pleasures, which you shared with me equally, despite my humble origins. You spotted something in me that stirred a passion in your loins, matching the passion I had instantly formed for you, and you swept down from your lofty perch and brought me into your world, your inner circle, not to be shared and used and discarded as much of your circle did and do, but as an equal, exclusive in love to you as you became exclusive to me.

I know you always made me feel as though I was reborn your equal, my Dearest Wife, but I knew in my heart that I was so far beneath you that I was content ever to be your obedient servant, faithful lover and devoted protector. Thus, I could delightfully exist for an eternity in the glow of your love and the respect I know you had for my feelings of love for you.

Oh! How we partied when we were young though, my sweet. Every night we danced and made merry, night after night and all night long! After rest we’d feed, drink our fill, and enjoy the nightlife all over again. How I revelled in your continuously sustained effervescence!

How you soared, my Sweetheart! No-one could touch you in your beauty, charm, gracefulness and regality, my delightful Honeypot, so faithful and so true. How we loved, how we orgasmed for hours without end, without a care in the world, and if we were out at night somewhere distant from home, we were only mindful, fearful even, of the dawn that registers the end of another full night of joy. We had plenty of room in our lofty castle, so we entertained aplenty at home more often than not, where even dawn impinged little upon our lust for life, to entertain and to love each other until we were sated.

The world was your oyster, without a care in the world, sparkling gloriously in the night, crackling with vital energy. You were absolutely spellbinding my love, immortal, incorruptible. While all around us faded like autumn leaves, it seemed we could go on as we were forever.

How could I imagine it would ever end?

I can still hear the echoes of your delightful laughter, though now alone without you, the memories of your passion invigorates me still within. On the outside I am bent and old, hollow and empty because I am nothing without you, my dear. You were my life.

Would that I had departed the first of us, my sweetheart. How I would have given up so many years, surrendered every atom of my vitality, the very essence that sustains me, instead of lingering on in this empty half-existence without the supporting brilliance of your smiles, the light touch of your lips on mine, a prelude to the passion that would overtake you to drive my body to the edge of its endurance in reaching our mutual satisfaction.