Ruined Shrines

Leaves are falling from my heart. What used to blossom in the light is now burning in your absence- a fire taming the flames of its own fright. How can I write for a world that chopped my heart apart, dancing in the heat of my flames after igniting the spark? Still I write in the flares rising high, Still I write until the embers die, Still I write before my heart rests in ash, hoping my words will find your match. Let them bring you back to the place where sits my ash, and a seed hiding in the mess, waiting just to catch your sight before burrowing in the soil, away from the world and its burning shrines. Absorbing your golden light, drinking the rains in your eyes; which, through the years to demise still pierce my skies. Hoping the feed of our memories will help me grow, before the wind sways your black hair and your tear-shaken brow. Wishing to see you before my crow takes flight- which once was a sparrow.