Art thief
She wants my heart in her private collection
Major heist underway
I watch her removed, from my obsidian-ivory tower
She does not know I am there
I smile, a low laugh erupts
The altar has been pillaged before
There are no treasures left
Because in reality ashes do not come back to life.
They lie, and blow.
Her agile body is beautiful to watch
Traversing obstacles that no longer hold purpose.
Curious, but does she sense something I do not?
Either way tantalizing.
But as mesmerizing as fire is
I gaze, remembering the distant pain
In mischievous curiosity and fascination.

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