Cauterizing the Wounds
The fire burns brightly in the night, sparks flying towards the stars.
My skin blisters in the heat of the bonfire, but I feel no pain. I am numb.
Lifting up the next plastic bag, I cast it into the heart of the blaze. It becomes engulfed, melting, and clothes spill out. The sight of them pierces my heart, a bitter pain that is without end.
I turn away and lift up the next sack.
This one contains photographs; all of our captured memories together. The wind buffets the flames, sending sparks skyward. The memories follow you into the heavens.
My skin blisters in the heat of the bonfire, but I feel no pain. I am numb.
Lifting up the next plastic bag, I cast it into the heart of the blaze. It becomes engulfed, melting, and clothes spill out. The sight of them pierces my heart, a bitter pain that is without end.
I turn away and lift up the next sack.
This one contains photographs; all of our captured memories together. The wind buffets the flames, sending sparks skyward. The memories follow you into the heavens.
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