The Lighter

You take one long look at the picture

You know what has to be done.

You know it will only cause more pain.

But the memories.

Oh the sweet memories.

There's a battle inside you

But the -

Do it!

Do I have to?

Yes.

Can't I keep it a little longer?

No.

Tears begin to well up

as you hold it between

two fingers, caressing it

with your eyes.

This is it.

The lighter is a fifty pound weight

in your hand,

the flame teasing the photo.

But you soon realize

the sigh of relief

that leaves the painful memory behind.