I.
Your silver ring burns through my skin,
a brand from where your hands have been.
Miles melt like wax in fire’s throat,
absence carves its hollow note—
the flame you left still pulls me in.
What remains when flame grows thin?
II.
I thread your name through midnight air,
braid silver light from my despair.
Each whispered word, a molten thread,
that binds my heart...
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