The ashy remains
of love that burned too bright,
but somehow never right.
Our tattered tapestry
weighs so heavily,
and I want at least a shred
of a memory to hold on to,
to love endlessly.
If an unsung ending
is what this needs,
I'll incorporate with our remaining threads.
I'll always have roots that lead back to you.
Every line, every fiber a reminder
of our now threadbare colors
turned vestiges,
faded to black.
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