Your essence scribbled on paper,
it's pain purged from my heart.
From a single corner, a flame
ignites, incinerating your memory.

Slowly, the flame builds,
engulfing all pain;
the part of you that remains,
as you drop from my hand.

Silently, the flame flickers out,
and you turn to ashes, crumpled,
leaving only the black you are,
smoldering within the recesses of yesterday.

Washed clean by flame and water,
encircling a hole of death,
like the vultures you were,
now washed from sight and heart.