I’m reticent.
moved from fervor
to ash; quiet
and tiny
but once bright
and orange and cascading
across forests with great
devastation. the speck
left from a great
war, unheard,
falling to the dirt
and settling on
unobserved and
silent.
but you?
you will remember
the way my bones
crackle when touched.
the way i burned.
daturamoon.com 
Beautiful, Sarah. xo
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