The Moon and The Muse

My darling, it is my body made of ash and dust
That threatens to burn at the simmer of your touch
For you sear with the fury of a century of unrequited love
And it’s in my nature to so willingly burn

I stand at the edge of your house, unwelcome, and turned
My shallow flame ablaze with envious hurt
Envy of those welcome to your world
A land of strange maladies, your magic, your musk

I sit by the edge keeping an untiring watch
In time I come to be known as the keeper of lore
Ah, to waste away at your doorsill, calling your name
A pleasure most sweet, yet I refrain in fear of your disgrace

Instead, I christen you the moon and the muse
Dearest to the keeper, the bard, the fool
And write rhymes of my anguish and pain
And the name most sweet to my lips, I still refrain