Reader in the Mountains

Burn it, burn it all I say The dust on your fingers from tracing my face The letter in your hands, the one I wrote in haste The picture of us together, the only one I had The scarf around your neck, the first I ever made They are all lies you say All parts of a devious plan They must be then, evanescent Yet, I still see them in my hands Like blood on a murderer's fingers Like cobwebs on my mind Tattooed to my memories of you They are everywhere I can find I hope the burning does it Washing away my sins Because I cannot face my God alone After sleeping in the devil's inn.