Silently, I sit here, awaiting your inevitable return. Silent,
in my corner of desolation. Silent, surrounded only by the ashes of my once
burning desire. Silently longing for the moment I get to see your face again.
But what if you return too late, when I’m choking on my last breath, or maybe
even when the last atom of my body has turned to ice? You would see the ashes
and believe I had nothing left for you. Or maybe you would believe that I found
my absolution in this isolation.
But no! I leave you these words; this last testament of my love,
my devotion. Even when my body had been buried six feet under your feet, there
is still an ember that burns as a beacon for your eternal soul.
Even in death I shall be yours. Is there no greater curse?
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