There’s not much left,
other than a soft ash that covers the branches.
I could tell you it was angry,
I could tell you I’m covered in acid burns
Shaped like words, it hurts.

I could tell you the smoke filled my lungs
to the brim,
And left lesions of soot
across my low beating heart
At least everything is still.

There are no more leaves,
the only hum I hear
is the ringing in my ears,
and the tears,
are dry now, too.

I could tell you how comely
this all looks
The destruction, the debris-
but you deserve your own pity;
Abandon me with mine.