I think…

yes, I know, a dangerous pastime.
I was wondering silently among
the silent rolling hills and cowering the
booming tempest that has become
my mind. I stumbled upon your grave
once more. A small grot wedged
into the hillside, overlooked by the
darkest and loudest of storms,
flashing bright, illuminating, so that
I might never forget what lies here.
I sat with you and we exchanged words,
the grass above you whispering into
the wind, caressing my face once more,
but my heart does not sway like the
leaves of the Life Tree anymore. So
I found myself thinking…
about how very fragile trust is
about how little people put in one another,
but how quickly the blame burns blue.
A flame like that engulfs more than skin, dear,
it is still hungry after the house is gone
and the city sits in ruins. It came for you and I,
I can almost see it now, sitting among the rubble.
It took something from me, but left it in you.
I think my mother told me once,
that lone wolfs are alone for a reason,
and now I see why. But I digress…

I think…
the reason why the blue fire took me,
a simple notion that is clear to me now,
you couldn't trust, so you can’t be trusted.