Symphony in D Minor for an Apocryphal Love

I name you —
and the night kneels.
Let the sarcophagi of desire open,
let the stained glass crack under the weight of our exquisite blasphemy,
let the cherubs fall like sick stars
upon the crimson stage of the world.

This will not be an opera:
it will be an eclipse with music.

I want your love
not as a prayer,
but as a spell.

I want it with lips stained with pomegranate and poison,
with the ceremonial slowness of a lovesick executioner.

I want your love under onyx lamps,
between curtains embroidered with forgotten symbols,
while a quartet of specters
plays a requiem in an impossible time signature.

Give it to me with the tremor of exiled queens,
with the sweet pride of fallen angels
who still carry the scent of heaven in their broken wings.

I want your madness
—that nocturnal gardenia that blooms in cemeteries—
the one that writes prophecies with warm blood
and laughs as if every laughter
were a mirror breaking in time’s throat.

Let us be heirs to a nonexistent throne,
crowned with dead stars,
dressed in abyssal velvet
and luminous scars.

Let our hands learn
the secret alphabet of shadows.

Let our bodies become open grimoires
where every caress invokes
a different creature of fire.

I want your sex
like an arcane ritual spoken in a forbidden tongue,
like the golden key that opens
the last door of human desire.

Let our skins conspire
while clocks melt
like mercury tears.

Let the moon watch us
and blush.

Let us be scandal in spectral salons,
eternal rumor in the corridors of purgatory,
voluptuous echo in libraries where dust
preserves secrets older than guilt.

Let them call us plague.
Let them call us sacrilege.
Let them call us magnificent aberration.
But let them never —
never —
call us lukewarm.

If the world decides to set us on fire,
we will burn like forbidden libraries.

If judgment descends with bronze trumpets,
we will answer with a kiss so vast
that it fractures the geometry of the firmament.

And when empires rust
and oceans evaporate their memory,
when the last witness closes their eyes
and the universe folds
like a weary curtain,
let them find in the ashes
two silhouettes embraced,
still smoking,
still proud,
still glorious.

Because there is no higher mysticism
than that of two bodies choosing each other
with full awareness of the abyss.

Let us make desire a secret dynasty.
Tremor, a religion without redemption.
Excess, an immortal aesthetic.

“Embrace Under a Dark Eclipse” is a digital painting by Osiris Valdés inspired by the poem Symphony in D Minor for an Apocryphal Love. The work translates the lyrical intensity of the text into a visually symbolic scene with deep emotional resonance, where love manifests as a cosmic and transcendent event. Under a dark eclipse, the piece evokes an atmosphere of mysticism and poetic tension, where desire, shadow, and the sacred converge in a single eternal moment