The Ember and the Ash

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The Ember and the Ash

We were the lightning in the heart of the night,
A gentle fever, an exquisite wound,
Our souls burned with relentless light,
A fire no force could impound.

But love is a fickle, fleeting air,
A blaze that dances, then disappears,
We held only what was never there,
Ashes slipping through our fingers.

You left like shadows flee the dawn,
Leaving only the shape of longing,
And I remain, a castaway dream,
Drifting where dead flames are calling.

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