A Conservative Retreat from an Entry Point

This recurring pain brings me back
to this beaten spot for a curious taste.
While I reach toward the mantle's tempered heat,
I tommorrow long for the dripping flesh
of my arms inside her embers.

My time is not my own.
It is consumed, while solitary.
Shiny, decorated fleshstrips
surround her sharp and biting tongue.
Her flaming heart calls me like a Siren.

But in her eyes I am a coward.
To hate me is what makes her a survivor.
That buried pain of lost true loves
can take me to the cold, mirky bottom
faster than any of my own experiences.

My love for her, now ashes, sand, and dry bread crumbs
Impotent, misunderstood, and waiting for things growing.
One day I will find the way
To love another
and miss her forever.