Your eyes flicker with warm light,
like the humbled cumbustion of a dying fire,
expiring under a cold sky.
Embers roll into black,
Dirt and ash,
and I am afraid of what’s left behind.

After all this time,
You grew to despise the love you claimed to seek.
After all this time,
You’ve still got the sharpest teeth.

Embers roll into black,
Dirt and ash,

And I am afraid of what’s left behind.