Desire Turns to Fire

It’s so cliché to speak of love,

So intense it sparks a fire.

The inferno spreads to heart and soul,

The accelerant's called, desire.

All of my fires were fatal,

By either cremation or passion…

Life spared no one in my heart,

Not one saved, and no lives rationed.

So many visit loved ones,

In nature as scattered ashes.

Observers can’t see the mourner’s wounds,

Their pain or unhealed gashes.