there is nothing left to this.
it's the hardcover fairytale
i ripped the skin off
and burned the pages of.
currently
the authors name disintegrates
as ash into earth
into wind.
no words left to read.
no pictures left to see.
no story to tell.
sadly
i will save
the stark remains
in a figurative urn
without a lid
accepting the mist of memories
that still envelops me sometimes.
here, now,
he is the last thing on my mind
as i try to reach sleep and forget at the same time.
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