For ten long years, a love that burned but did not heal,
Her blonde hair wild, a flame that I could not feel.

She wore her sins like jewels, lustful, divine,
My vestal virgin in whose arms I could not kneel.

We danced in shadows where the gods' eyes turned away,
Our love a riot, too brazen for the heavens to conceal.

Her touch was reckless—she used me, I used her,
A game of passion, where neither heart could steal.

Jupiter’s wrath upon us, yet we dared not flee,
Our sins like incense, too fragrant to repeal.

The skies above us trembled, and Caligula would smile,
Nero’s fiddle played a tune the gods could not unseal.

We forged a bond too fierce for mortal tongues to name,
But love was never here, just a fire that couldn't heal.

Her sinful gaze, a challenge to all heaven’s might,
A restless storm we both refused to ever feel.

So let the gods in fury mark us both with shame,
We’ll burn as we burn, with nothing left to conceal.

-M. S Chandler