Motte.

We were like dancing flames,
Burning bright-fading slow

I stood in the aftermath-afterglow of your ruin

I watched you, revel in the arson that consumed you

You could see no way out but further in.

I held out my hand
It was desolation you feared.

One step forward, taking two steps back
What did I have to lack for you to think I was enough
What must I do, to be vile enough to play with your fire tonight?

Your mighty flames wash to ashes in my small hands

The waves, the fleece, the sands of time,
I bring to you

Rejected, they retreat.
I stand my ground.

With no where to go but here
I promise to wait,
To stay.

To fight, to dance, to burn with you tonight.

 

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