Winter of my bliss, cut short by folly of woenAlone I stand in the pallour of the moonnFor she has gonennAnd to me comes blighted flamennFor her I would have sundered worldsnBut she casts her love, on a meaningless shellnA waste of wasted lifennAnd to me comes blighted flamennReflecting skin, mirrored pool, empty, shallownnShowing what you wish to seenDispelling into a stone's thrownnMy wings unfurled, I take to the skynWounds drip from my soul, that I had almost givennnCindered in the cold fires of achenInterred in the ashes of regret, I await her returnnnAnd to me comes blighted flame.