This Diary Is For Prying Eyes

Dear Diary, 
I'm calling again. The forbidden number that she left...
hidden under ashes of burnt photographs.
Could see her face
Still lit with grace
Radiant flame of beauty
Time will not erase

Costs to ignite a flare of passion
are high
as a volcanic eruption that burns the sky.
Hot as my heart as I write this down.
To practice, to rehearse a cry
Is only cold.

How I could be so bold, to dial the number I was told
...it would conjure a witch.
My friends said 'Don't call that bitch!'
'She will only burn you on her stake. Let her cry, let
her scream. Let her laugh. Live, brother.'
But, how can I love another?

I put the phone down. I put my heart away.
I will write about confessions, purification.
You will hate me once you read my sins.
Out of all this, no one wins.
You told me you trusted me.
I told you I trusted you. You knew...

that our vows were only air and chlorophyll.
Never solid, written in stone or gaudy stars.
I lied to you about being my only...and you kept
something hidden, like the forbidden number
that you left.
If only I had found it in embers.

But, a burning heart remembers.