You are dead, dead, dead

Like the proverbial phoenix

Our loves’ burning flame

Was not enough to resurrect you

You lay doormat as Vesuvius or Yellowstone

Fires angry tendrils incapable of licking clean

The augury sinews; the acrid recollections

Of the boy whom loved you

And now, the nights grow longer

The days e’er so much shorter

I would set ablaze

The last remnants of you

But, only substance eating at memories edges

Are those cold flames of fervour

Whispers of a long empty dream at twilight

Yes! You are dead to me

My lover boy

Gone are the flames in your eyes;

Alive no more – slumbers

Slivers of moonlit hair

I think  I could had loved you in a fortnight or two.