Reflection

What a strange place to find one’s

reflection

A raging fire filled with priceless artifacts

now deemed to be expendable.

A binder filled with sleepless nights,

countless tears, and obscure knowledge.

Reduced to a mono-chromatic whisp of

fragile ash.

A couch that reaks of stale beer from the party last night.

A sad mishaped seat cushions

Sad if only because simply being

Mishaped due to friendly usage

is not enough to live on.

A life

is filled with this kindling,

these glimpses of the past,

these flammable memories.