We have become ashes,
small, torn pieces of notsobright confetti
and not much else.
It is all that we are now.

The feeling of what was lingers in the air like mist
defying the miles
creating pain like tumors for our hearts.

We've broken it down until we've broken down
and it's not beautiful
it's not wistful,
romantic.

It just is.

And what it isn't
is right.

12/10/2009

Author's Note: No good will come of this.

Posted on 12/10/2009
Copyright © 2024 Megan Guimbellot