I am standing here alone.
The rain consisting of my mere thoughts is drawing small ripples on the edges of deep, with love crafted cracks.
Flesh and blood is what I am,
Nothing more,
Nothing less,
And perhaps enough.
What used to be is not anymore,
And what is it now I’m not sure.
i can smell the fire becoming weaker,
Or maybe I am fooled by its smoke,
A wonderful disguise.
I hope we will meet again one day,
Fire and I,
And fill the cracks anew.
Peaceful dream.
Now, delicately,
I place flowers on the remains which I used to call home.