Dioscuri

In truth, you were exactly like the sun

In that you burned me when I grew too near;

Vowed by the stars themselves I was the one,

Then immolated all that you swore dear.

The unkept promise writ in poetry

Of love that's more than love, lying in wait,

Has proven passion naught but agony -

Flames will consume; this is our star-crossed fate.

So throw Shakespeare and Poe upon the pyre!

And my words, too, for echoing their lies.

Yes, you kept warm by setting me on fire,

The motive of that spark inside your eyes.

But darling, did you think I'd burn alone?

No, dear - one life, one heap of ash and bones.