Cruel flecks of ash silently fall,
like filthy disfigured snowflakes--
all that remains of love's enthral
reduced to tiny clinging aches.
The dormant volcano of you
awoke on a mundane Tuesday,
assigning me the residue
of our emotional decay.
Your eruption was fierce and brief--
a violent, fiery hurricane--
and my initial disbelief
gave way to blood, torment and pain.
Above the roar I heard Love cry
as she was slowly burned alive.
Wild flames consuming earth and sky,
I had no hope she could survive.
Love to ashes: ashes to dust.
The tears, like rain, turn dust to mud
and time will slowly form a crust
until my heart pumps only blood.
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