Conversion

How inappropriate
of me would it be
to revoke your fire,
drown your desires
with my bitter storm
raging within?

My love, death’s
ritual, buried deep
within time’s catacomb.
You barter with my
heart, begging life
to restore the sun.

Awakening once more
to bitter tales of passion escaping
through a shattered
hourglass, you attempt
to convert my pain.

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