|
I walk alone yet bear her flame within,
Her memory burns in every breath I take.
No power can quench, no dawn can now begin
To soothe the fire no silence dare unmake.
She is the ink that stains my restless hand,
The muse that taught me pain can still create.
She gave no vow, she made no high demand,
Yet left a wound that turned to wings of fate.
No kiss was shared, no whispered words were sown,
Yet still her silence carved my heart in stone.
She left me scorched, yet strangely not alone,
A man remade by what was never shown.
And now I know what passion truly is—
A fire that forms itself in ghostly kiss. |
