In Black Flames

Nothing showed passion like her rhythm,
Now we only burn at a distance…

Raised on stranger’s boredom
Strings of long, metallic beauty
Strums idea’s soft kindle alight.

One spectacular performance
Gleamed the hungry fire of fame.
Warming winter’s wind her
Gentle thudding drove cold nights.

Lights on trepid hands we played…
- Languor glimpsed and left her
final note in jilted ashes.

Severing your pleading comfort
Pretty bodies showed more promises.
…I was too vulnerable.

You’re entombed in careless threading;
Where betrayal carries faintness.
A rhythm that escaped the mire
You are the black in my fire.