The Death of Desire

The arson of my dreams,
was set by me.
A brilliant blood orange glow.
Down an abandoned wreckage road.
Night and her dark velvet invitations,
fuel my gasoline lamentations.
A self inflicted burn,
give desire a final blistering yearn.
Hopes and wishes compose
optimism's lather.
 But dreams are now dead blackened cadavers.