Cast Iron

Incensed, I castigated myself
but failed to see the sense
in any possible union between us
in spite of the flames taking down
our house in early morning.

The dress you're wearing
makes me proud to be yours
the star-dust and chandeliers
cannot match you, incendiary smile
torching the place, melting hearts.

Like an ironmonger to his furnace,
I remain steadfast, set in my ways,
so they say, though being with you
makes me feel I am welding you in,
freeing you my ambition, though it hurts.