exhale...

The sound of the paper burning is like poetry...
And the exhale of that gray smoke...lightens your burdens a bit
And the familiar warmth of the flame that burns up all the wounds
The color of the ash looks up at you like a friendly face...
Both of you share the same shade.
Tinted by the same black....
But then undeserving of its intensity...
And then on deep breadth...
One long silence...
The rustic...dry...gray....in your system...
Like old friends meeting...
And then...
Exhale...
In one sublime moment after another, you breadth out your pain..
And then...it’s over...
But then...
True friends will meet again.
The End