Heart of Stone

You’ve left me to the dust

And I accept it

Finally.

Why can’t I walk

Down the path of memory

Just once?

For all the years counted

I have only lived eighteen.

Aye, a rose you were

But when the title thrown off

So did too the sweetness—

The Bard be a fool

And the pennies he picked

From the stage for his words

Were too many

For such lies blind lovers follow.

You were red then

A pure flame no man could resist

And each followed

For the comfort

As well as the burn

That would surely come

When any fool dared too close.

You were my holy goddess

Yet you tossed identity aside

When the snuffer fell down.

Your hue changed to gray

As all things do

When death descends.

A regressive Pygmalion

Left with only a pile of rubble

Upon which

I can find no sign.