I will hallucinate your halos,
even as they sear my sight-
your silhouette, a shrine I built
from ruin and reverence alike.

Each breath I steal to keep you near
has blistered sweet upon my tongue.
Desire unending - wretched, ragged -
a hunger fed on smoke and bone.

You walk like fire walks:
devouring, divine.
And I-
I go to ash for you nightly,
crumbling for even a glance.

You do not see me.
But I burn, and burn, and burn.
And call it love.


Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 10th of Chakros, in the year 12 AC.