In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. (15)
Hmm. What does mist look like as a child? We can only guess. Still, the image here reminds us that, really, it's the speaker's soul—and specifically the long-last past of that soul—that we're dealing with here.
Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, (33)
So you're saying there's a chance. At least, the speaker seems to think so, even after all this time has passed. The speaker still seems to cling to some fantasy of "fire" that continues to burn, despite what's happened in the past.