And there’s nothing as cold as ashes after the fire is gone. When you look into their eyes, all you see is the form of a person. The person you once knew and to whom you opened your heart stands before you as a stranger. The distance between you can be measured in feet and inches, but the disconnect is measured in shock and disbelief. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and now the beholder holds a blank stare. The appearance of beauty produces the taste of bile and disdain.
Love is where you find it when you find no love at home. Febrile from toxic inhalation, the breath of another rushes in with comfort of life. The giver of life embraces with a blanket of acceptance and cools the brow with soft-spoken words. Anxiety and insufficiency are distant voices of the past. The lines of right and wrong are blurred behind the wounds and seething pain.
The bottle is almost empty. The clock just now struck again. When I sat down the hour was PM and now the AM light penetrates again. The brightness out there is blinding and so is the pain within. My mind crackles with history recent and history back then. Repetitive is the ticking of the clock and the lashes of the tongue.
There’s nothing as cold as ashes after the fire is gone. There’s nothing as cold as ashes scattered in the wind into Eternity’s song.