You have come ,
In all your warmth and love ,
In all your care and romance .
You have come with your fire and your sparkle .
And I am so happy.
But darling I am dead ,
My heart numb and my eyes dry .
The fire no longer raging in flames ,
Its like those orange flares of leftover burnt wood .
Its like that burning charcoal .
That , to which you have to get really close to ,
To get even a little warmth.
I no longer have the desire and the energy to blame anyone ,
Perhaps the winter was too cold and the wood too weak .
I burnt out early my love .
I burnt out early .
And you can do all that you want to .
You can add the fuel or you can water the fire .
You can do all that you want to.
And isn’t there very little that a burnt out pyre can do ?
It can burn a little more
Closer to your eyes yet distant from your heart .