The man she wanted all her life
was hanging by a thread.
“I never even knew how much
I wanted you,” she said.
His muscles they were numbered
and his style was obsolete.
“O baby, I have come too late.”
She knelt beside his feet.
“I’ll never see a face like yours
in years of men to come,
I’ll never see such arms again
in wrestling or in love.”
And all his virtues burning
in the smoky holocaust,
she took unto herself
most everything her lover lost.
– From the poem “Death of a Lady’s Man” from Death of a Lady’s Man by Leonard Cohen. (via leonardcohenminute)