Black Iris
06-18-03
2:42 p.m.
Sitting upon a blackened table
The sunlight casting motes of dust in my burnt face
The acrid smell of houseburn assaulting wooden nostrils
Shadows of a former beauty standing amidst the ashes
Her form still lovely to behold
The black blemishes, a detailed map of her pain
Attesting to her walk through fire
Standing proudly amongst the ruins.
I am dead.
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