A sacred memory holds you while a fire    burns you where blood once fervently pumped    for her and every action    deliberate steps placed on stone yellow hearts.       She loves me not,    embraced by the frosted memories    of where you look behind, it's the only way you can see.       Streaming tears down the palette of your face    paint a picture red and black and blue.    The emotion bleeds into my eyes overflowing despite your pride.