Pyre Bits

I lay down slow,
my bones like wax—
and wish you’d lay yours
beside me, in the fire pit.
Flame would claim us,
erase our tracks—
while strangers sing in unison
around our pyre bits.

The campground
is full of cheer—
our bodies fuel
their peaceful tone.
But still, you stay away,
sitting in fear.
And I am left 
to carry us alone.

~

So now I climb
those creaking Victorian steps—
your ancestors’ forever home—
past faces framed in dust
and death.
Their eyes don’t blink,
but still, somehow, they roam.

Upstairs, I light a candle—
with your bones instead;
the wax you left behind for me,
and still, it doesn’t spread.