Fire
I hear the screams, I smell the smoke, I see your face melt like wax over a stove. And when your body has turned to dust, this is the point that words can't touch. The fire whispers in my ear, as death and destruction shall remain here. The shadows dance upon our torn down walls, the house around falls as your spirit remains up above. The screams are incurred and the voices of those that shall never be heard sigh and fall away. I feel the heat against my skin, I touch yours on a whim. Your ashes feel like sand, like that one time on a beach. The gas I poured, maybe ten minutes ago, feels like the salt water that made you screech.
