• A swirling mass of ember and heat
    It will warm my hands
    Yet never my heart
    The blood runs cold
    Pouring from my wrists
    As I gaze at the beautifully crafted face
    And cynical smirk that destroyed me.
    If I'd been the strong one
    And killed her first
    I still would have fallen with her.
    For all the fire in hell
    Could not incinerate the hatred
    And vengeance that consumes me now.