Sitting in an empty room, I remember love:
In these quiet moments I think of your soul
And the marks it left on these bones.
I think of our love's life and death
And the constant lighting of my heart on fire.
It's strange to think that you were once mine.
We were too young when I first called you mine—
Too eager was I to be immersed in love.
I needed the feeling of our passionate fire
And the connection to another living soul.
I believed that our love would follow us into death
When we would lie across rust and ancient bones.
Instead our love consisted of ruptured bones
And the loss of power I thought was mine—
Your anger threatened to cause my death—
Because of you I learned of demented love
And felt your demons infect my soul,
As I watched your rage catch fire.
We lost so much in an angry fire
And were left with nothing but bags of bones.
Persistently I begged God to save your soul
So that I could find peace within mine.
I had to throw away virtuous ideas of love
And accept that innocence was to be mourned in death.
I begged God for a merciful death—
One that would set my soul on fire,
So that I could be cleansed with Glorious Love.
Yet, all I received were scriptures carved within my bones—
I realized salvation was mine
To find so that I could free my own soul.
I know now, I could have never save your soul,
For your hands were always grasping death.
I allowed you to take what was mine
And attempt to destroy my hope with your fire,
But you could never take the strength within my bones
You could never destroy with hate my heart of love.
Your soul could never know the beauty of love.
You will always have death carved into your bones
And I will set fire to the thought that you were once mine.