The Burning Journal

There lay my journal

With memories of the past.

All of them, colourful and bleak.

It told the stories of people who were mere passengers

And of those who were to stay.

There lay my journal

Which held the story

Of when I thought I was in love.

Of when I thought that I felt loved and blessed

And all it did was to leave me battered and cursed.

There lay my journal

That held the dreams that still seem so far away.

And which held the unspoken promises I had made and were

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to fulfill.

There lay my journal

Which was a silent listener

To my worries and sorrows.

Which helped me become stronger with every word

And held my weakness with it's aging pages.

There lay my journal

With the story of when I fell in love.

Of how beautiful the journey is.

And how the sense of uncertainty and certainty pulled us together yet apart.

There lay my journal

Crumbling, under the blaze of a fire

Into a heap of ash

Never to say another story.