Once brilliant,

Burning bright,

Illuminating the night.

Now,

Smoldering embers,

Against a graying building,

Lost,

In the light.

The hunger once held,

Lost to the night,
On the wings-

Of those ashen butterflies;

All ready flown away.

They’ve been freed,

By your burning hunger,

That you have,

No longer.

Soft hands bring the wind,

Softly reviving the embers,

Of this,

Almost,

Lost Desire.