Rage - a poetry

It erupts in my heart 
When I see what is mine, what could be, 

with the haunting past that takes you away from me.

The fire that spreads from bone to muscle but does not show,
inside me it steadily grows.

The expanding warmth grips me, breaks me,
making my sorrows extinguish, tears evaporate,
only leaving the seething pain that swallows me.

Rage, a rage called love
that you cannot help, that cannot be,
that the naked eye cannot see,
This rage might kill me but
I will take it.

Dying in its fire will trump living without love at all