Lady

You and I are phoenixes,
occasionally lighting fire
and burning slowly
underneath smiles,
caricatures of kind words.
But I fear that this time,
unlike others,
I have come to lose you
in the wake of the ash.
So I've made my home here,
politicking, infatuating, discouraging.
The life I lead
has never been the life I've sought,
but I've found that my now ashen face
has made me weary and ashamed.
Day after day, I've been digging,
reassured by the cracked bits of shell
buried, buried under.
You were here.
You have risen,
and maybe I will, too.
It won't be long before we meet again.
And we will grow up again,
under the light of the sun,
And we will learn to fly again.
I will not ignore our vicious life cycle
of catching fire and slowly burning away.
But we will be reborn.
We are reborn.
And no one will relieve us of our sentiments.
I promise to God I will find you in the ash
this time.
We are phoenixes. It's what we do.