Photo by The Prototype on Unsplash
When I burn beautiful flowers
I wonder if I will smell pure bliss or smoke?
Will I feel anything at all?
Will I see the charring?
Will it grow back, torched, licked by flames?
Will it ever be the same?
When I burn beautiful flowers
I picture segments of stories written
Crumbling line by line
Reversing such beauty
I see layers of burned beauty
Settling down
Hiding itself from further pain
I hope they return
Because I like color
About the Creator
Ty
Using words to paint pictures
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