Echoes in ash
Sit here silent as masks
Staring right back
Through my hyperbole past

The fire, did warm me
The whiskey, did sew me
Thread, falls from my collapse
As whispers of mourning

Portraits of you, next
What you've become
One's strokes, so vivid
The other, rotund

Ashes to echos
I wonder if he knows
What, all,
He left behind

A fog of limbs
Eyes in mist
Is there,
After, life

Rocks; crack, stumble
In glass: of tumble
As red leather,
Made company

Ashes, the echoes
Of what was
Once, but
No more