Burnt : A Short Poem
Burnt : A Short Poem1 min 384 1 min 384
He was standing still.
Holding a photograph in his hand.
It looked like that was a picture of someone.
That smell of a parched paper,
Sight of her fading away, slowly,
Sound of a flame rising above,
Numb feeling of the coldest pain,
Flavored in a dark smoke...
Not only that paper was burning, but so did his heart, his memories and himself!
Burning hot enough to give him some comfort,