Harbinger (Villanelle)

Laying my lips upon your skin,
Succumbing to your whispers fain.
Will we ever meet again?

Hair like soft spring clouds move in,
Pupils zenith and irises rain,
Laying my lips upon your skin.

Though still I think of the final din
Which of this calls for the bane.
Will we ever meet again?

I slip below your chin
And suck from the stem of your pain,
Laying my lips upon your skin,

When a scene of your grin
Stoic before me causes my zest to wane.
Will we ever meet again?

Rid I must of the harbinger within
Which construes this all inane!
Laying my lips upon your skin,
Will we ever meet again?