To Their Ashes

. . . . . . .

Burning steadily,

Burning readily,

This warmth you feel,

Is my Love made real.

Should you be so lucky,

To have been loved by me,

I would've promised you immortality,

For I'll never forget your beauty.

Things even you don't see,

Words even you don't hear,

I witness them to their ashes,

Meaningful yet brief flashes.

All this may seem just as well,

But really let us not dwell,

On things past and ancient,

So old they may be poison.

If an ending is what you desire,

A finale I will give you,

Anything to kill this fire,

Of my Love that's smothering you.

____________________________________________________

Note: For some reason, whenever I pen anything about Love, it comes out all wrong. Vengeful or...defeated. What do I know of Love anyway? Nothing. Thus the overt tones of resentment. Then again...haha.