Pyre

I spent so long trying to burn you
that I forgot what was on the pyre:
two years of late night confidence
in-jokes and secret codes;
half a dozen movies watched
curled up against each other;
quotes from a hundred episodes
and words on a thousand pages;
the painting I did for you
and the songs you wrote for me,
all up in flames with the memory
of who you were, who I was,
who we were together.

I spent so long destroying you
and taking myself down with it:
gaping holes in stories told,
missing answers to questions asked,
and never a thought for us.
Just for you, burning on that pyre
with my heart lashed to your knees
and my mind tied with your veins,
crumbling under the heat of my anger.

And then I wonder why the ashes
taste bitter instead of sweet.

(19th January, 2015)

The End

19 comments about this poem Feed