Raise up for me a pyre of broken vows,
Of words you did not mean, of misplaced trust,
And lay me down among the thorny boughs–
Let all my inhibitions turn to dust.

Speak now of love and beauty. Treat my ear
To blandishments and empty words of praise.
My heart knows your remorse is insincere
And yet my faithless body still betrays.

If you seek absolution in this fire
I cannot give it–yours is not the blame.
Your every touch rekindles my desire.
I smolder every time you cry my name.

Just love me through the night until the morn
That from the ashes we may be reborn.

8 responses to “Burn

  1. So lovely, Christine. The imagery is vivid.


  2. This is so powerful, and of course beautifully written. I really like the “pyre of broken vows,” “I smoulder every time you cry my name,” and the idea of being reborn from the ashes. It’s so painful to be drawn into a love like this!


  3. Oh I love this. The imagery is so lush. Well done!


  4. I can’t believe how fast you churn out iambic pentameter. I hope that’s on your resume. Silver already mentioned my favorite lines. So I’ll mention the references to pain and pleasure: the thorny boughs, cried out names, bodies betraying. They bring so much conflict to your stanzas.


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  6. Oh, WOW. Along with the lines mentioned by the others, I was struck by “yours is not the blame.” So powerful.


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