A Song For The Pyre

A Song for the Pyre

One year of joy and two of penance. I hear the birds return, and think of you listening to their call,

I hear those birds before I hear you

trusting it the sound of me, the secret and the truth of me laid bare

to sing for you alone. It was.

All those nights melted into one. All those mornings basking in your soft laughter

as you teased me, teased me, teased me, thinking I’d die before I walked away.

And I did. Oh, how I died.

In the afterlife, a saint calls me a phoenix

and all I can think is, I was reborn in flames but I never sang again.