Didn't We Shine Like Bonfires ?

I swear we were love.
We, once immortals of moonlight's
glances.  Now...  I'm praying
within forbearance.

Didn't we shine like bonfires
in autumn ?  Wasn't our lust an
ever present wafting jasmine ?

And after each fall from grace
at the hands of a masked Adonis,
we would begin upon a promising
current, back out to an all
consuming sea.

I am forlorn of any visit home,
for then the aching in my chest.
It knocks the wind out of my
lungs, ablaze with regretful gasps.

Still, I put a match to the
kindling of remembrance.  And
didn't we shine like bonfires ?