logb

Burning on the altar
of passion's fire
It was a far, far greater thing
to do
burn the bridges behind me
longing being
as a spent offering
deemed of little
value to you

what fears me most
is hate
coming from dead-hearts
ice-dried
twelve
long stem
roses
sitting in my
funerary alabastar jar
the mantel
stoned me
to the shameful spot
damnation's lot

you should never lose love
once found
love's labour lost
for all that is
once found
harbouring ice-sheaved shores
a temple full of useless gold
the heart
once found
lost never

the sham
in the shaming
the maiming of a good heart
remains to this day
a reliquarian memory
of the king's mourning dove
crying
eternally
His broken heart

Jane King-Teahen-Jones

Oct 13 09