The darkest chasms hold
secrets of my soul
in the shape of my-
coniferous cone

I lick your frivolous flames
douse them with my tongue
even so, you can’t stay
in a wooden box anymore

You discarded mine for those
growing fondly around us
better shaped
unlike mine

When days were miracles
we carried our hearts
as trophies

Hearts wither and fail with the passing of time
Wishes, hopes, faith, love all wither together

But not this
coniferous cone
the shape of my heart
which you replaced
with a forest of your own