The Last Letter I Burned Was My Own

A cycle of poems «The Last Letter I Burned Was My Own»

Ashes drift through smoky air,
Burning pages, laid bare.

Words I wrote to set me free,
Caught in flames of memory.

The last letter I burned was my own,
Ink turned to fire, love overthrown.
Secrets lost in embers blown,
The last letter I burned was my own.

Tears soaked paper in fading light,
Letters folded, lost in night.
Every line a silent cry,
Written truths I won’t deny.

Words I wrote to set me free,
Caught in flames of memory.

The last letter I burned was my own,
Ink turned to fire, love overthrown.
Secrets lost in embers blown,
The last letter I burned was my own.

Smokestacks curl, the cold remains,
Ashes fall like frozen rains.
Promises I couldn’t keep,
Buried in the fire so deep.

From the fire, no words return,
Only lessons left to learn.
Burning bridges, shadows grown,
The last letter I burned was my own.

Ashes drift through smoky air,
Burning pages, soul laid bare.