To all those who belonged to someone who belonged to the world:
You will not even be a footnote in their history.
Poets will sing epics and tragedies and ballads of your lover
But scarcely a word of you, your love.
Your lover is gilt eternal golden, legend and song and yet--
And yet of your love and their love of you--
Feel that fire that burns bright and hot
like fever and a thousand splendid suns
on your blue-crest sand-dune soul
And know--that to others--
it will not hold a candle against the brilliance of their legacy.
Because your lover doesn't belong to you
But to those others
Ungrateful others
They who deify but do not know
They who kneel at your lover's feet in praise but never kissed them
They who admire the beauty but will never see the full expanse of that paradise
Not like you, beloved and yet forgotten, whose hands have graced, whose eyes have caressed, whose very lips forever know the taste.
Will the world remember your love? Will the world remember your sacrifice?
Will the world remember you?
No.
Nobody but your lover
Who means the world to you.