There are some things,

you can give away.

There are others you try to forget.

There are many you can

tear apart, bend, and break.

There are pieces that

can shatter,

and those that

can drown.

There are many

that are best dealt with,

buried under ground.

But there are some,

a select few,

that can only be purged.

They must be extinguished.

They can only truly be gone

when they resemble

nothing, of what they

were before.


They may only be addressed, with fire.


They may no more be a picture,

They may longer be a ring,

They may not be a note,

Nor anything.

They may not be emotions,

It cannot be warm.

There can’t be the sensations,

One felt from the form.

They may not be a painting,

They cannot be jewelry.

They may not be a gift,

Nor the memory of a view.


They may only be ash.



Humbly yours,


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