The moonless midnight
is ignited by a spark;
engulfing the dark
and capturing my heart.
But the same heart knows
only sorrows can transpire
from this wild fire
that I've allowed to start.
And yet, although I wince,
I can't convince myself to dowse the flame
nor let it tame,
but only to bask in its heat.
Her name was taken by the wind,
a rescind of that spark
now taken by dark;
the promise of Heaven in wistful retreat.
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