She is not moved by the ice on my eyelids,
nor is she heart-broken
by the great empty spaces in my soul.
She has her own laws.
She comes when she comes and leaves the same way.
I have never understood,
and I have tried. I could never constrain her, but then,
I have never tried.
She will return to set me on fire again, and again,
until that cruel time
when at last she returns no more and I will cease.
I don’t mind the dying,
but I’m not ready yet. I would mind it today.
The fire witch is fickle.