Ash and Cinder

“Fueled passion; flames and dies—ash and cinder scattered across the night skies.”

The fire once raged, but left its mark in dust,

its voice of crackling hunger silenced now.

The embers cooled, yet still the soil must

record the vows that blaze could not allow.

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What burned in me has withered into scar,

a hollow carved where once the heat had reigned.

Yet from that wound, the roots recall a star,

its ashes pressed in soil where grief remained.

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So endings write themselves in smoke and flame,

their letters drifting upward into night.

Though cinders fall, they whisper still your name,

a glow once fierce now folded into quiet.

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The fire is gone, yet still its shadow stays,

an ember buried deep in memory’s blaze.