Flame

In, oh, such
a few months
several years
have passed,
my eyes went away
and could not fix
your image.
Now I don’t
find relief
but in the heat
of the sun
in my bones,
no matter your
voice, the touch
of your hand
is empty
as it always
and ever has been.
Poor me,
could not see
my own flame
burning only
my old heart