Ascent

You built a home in the timber on a mountainside

Torn down by volcanoes and meteor strikes.

The carnage in which you reside suits you well:

You planted olive trees and saffron.

When I met you I told you a story

while we built a fire of steel and bone

You sat on my lap and listened

I scrawled a note on the wall in charcoal and
   something that looked like blood

I think I apologized

If nothing else I should have