Scorch Marks

Burnt cardboard lingers in the air
Soaking wet ash and carbon swept
down the drain
in reddened handfuls

No one will look to find
a funeral pyre in the kitchen sink

So much tied to such a little thing
A binding that never truly belonged
Flames devour acrylic
peeling back layers of life

All to reveal

underneath

a very quiet story

So in the darkened rooms
with only the slight smell of memory
Scorch marks are wiped away
from the sink

Nothing left
but a lingering

Soon to be dispelled by morning air and light

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