I sat by the fire burning ashes into paper.
Writing backwards letters on solid white.
I toyed with the words.
Knowing that it would never come out right.



Knowing. Fire.




Playing. Ashes.




I never knew the feeling until she fell from the ceiling.
And like a shooting star I watched her crumble.
Only wishing she’d fly back with fire.
Crumbling only the tiny strips of paper in her hands.




But she never made it.




Never.




It was almost December and I think I cried just once.
Knowing all the tears in the world couldn’t put out one flame.
And I’m still writing you now trying to think of everything.
Wondering if you’ll ever breathe in my sentences.



As my hands fumble across stale burned stars.



I breathed in earth that day but felt nothing.
All the air in the world couldn’t make my lungs survive.
When all I wanted was a fire in my hands.
And a letter saying it never happened.



Never.



Just.




Dreamed.




Putting the pen to the sky I created a shooting star.
And as I watch you cross the world like a dove so purely white.
I crumbled up every page of yesterday.
Only remembering you today.




Fumbling at disintegrated ashes.




Knowing. Never.




Wasn’t as far as forever.
Breathing.
Just breathing.




December.




Writing you a letter on solid white.
Watching flames burn at my fingertips.
“Eyes to the sky,” she said.
And with glassy eyes I lifted somber eyes.




& I promise you
Forever.
Promise you forever.



That.



I never missed you flying.


Never.













*Dedication to Z*

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