Soul is not an empty word
Colours the clouds of my emotions.
More than asking if it exists,
Because my soul has lived.
It has more than existed.
But that life has withered.
My soul was sublime in his love
So it evaporated in the pain of his death
It died, because it burnt with passion for as long as it did
The chemistry of the twig and the spark
Burnt, so instantly, so easily.
but oh how majestic was that flame
Two years of magical hues
Shedding blinding glints everywhere our love bloomed
Like cherry blossoms ablaze.
Those who burn with passion like fire
And pulled it into it's own black hole.
With scars of loss and grief,
and with tattoos of memory,
of resonating frequencies
Will I ever be able to love like that again?
Can I submit my heart again?
For a heart half in ashes, can’t burn again.