I tore the pages from my past and smiled at you as I offered each writing to the fire flames consumed beautifully the jagged words that for the longest time my head stabbed into my heart
bindings loosely held together now missing the bulk of the stack the stiches have been torn but the hardcover still remains
in a book that I no longer carry ashes are the words that no longer serve me
On making attempts to clear out the clutter of sadness and heartache