The thought of those words
betrayed me not,
they rest inside
smoldering and hot.
The flames that burn
have never felt
the feeling of
an ice block melt,
So there inside
the words repose,
the mind forgets
the heart knows,
Without the proof
of ashes spent
there lacks the clue
where passion went,
Ember that engulfs
only the host
leaving behind
an empty ghost,
Whose face maintains
bloodless gashes
and a singular hope
for love, for ashes.
