My Infatuation With You, Love

I have never loved.
It didn't use to be a problem,
That my heart was in ice gloved.
But now my house has frozen, become an emblem
Of my fire which is failing.

Forever, I said, the heat will never go flat,
I thought that my hearth was self-warming.
Maybe I lied, told myself that,
Because being lonely is better than being undeserving,
Better than loss.

Maybe it was because the fire caught scent of cedar,
Tired of scraps, mold, and moss.
Like how once you first feel touch, you can't live without it - you need her.
How I wished you could hear me from across
This wall I built; I know fantasy is not what you are, Love.

If only I could be my own heat.
Would I be less of a burden to you, of
Blazing fire, sweet?
Would I instead just enjoy your warmth and the sparks thereof?
Not need it so, old dove?