They say that time heals all wounds
but burns heal slowly. The scars across
your body- red-winged, head for peace.
I'm stood below with the image
of your face, singed like love itself
burns tirelessly- caressing my soul.
There will never be a day when I
don't miss you, but my hands are still.
My tears fight for me, chase your
fleeting body but today I cannot mourn.
The tears erase the sting of pain, flow
slowly backwards into the lake.
I hold your hands; their pulsing bloodstream
entwined with the tide. Your words
fall across the horizon, steady and immortal,
“Don't cry, we're free.”
There the street lights always shine.