Cauterizing the Wounds

The fire burns brightly in the night, sparks flying towards the stars.

My skin blisters in the heat of the bonfire, but I feel no pain. I am numb.

Lifting up the next plastic bag, I cast it into the heart of the blaze. It becomes engulfed, melting, and clothes spill out. The sight of them pierces my heart, a bitter pain that is without end.

I turn away and lift up the next sack.

This one contains photographs; all of our captured memories together. The wind buffets the flames, sending sparks skyward. The memories follow you into the heavens.

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