I met a girl

with eyes of
the summer
s
  k
    y.

I met a girl

with hair
like
bonfires
   on a summer night.

I met a girl

with a heart
of
m
   o
     l
      t
       e
         n
      gold

and

  a soul

too old
for her age.

The fire burned
brighter
with each
passing day.

It wrapped around us,

searing,

  blinding,

    burning.

We stepped forth
into the golden haze,

     her hand
       in mine.

The flames consumed me,

The embers embraced her,

The light danced around us.

The fire blazed.

It burned.

It scorched.

It destroyed until

    nothing

was left behind.

Sliding her hands
out of mine,

   she let go.

She stepped out
    of the fire,
       leaving me behind.

And never looked back.

But she vanished into the dark oblivion.

Black.

Charcoal black.

I only see black.

  Stirrings of grey ash,

       wisps of her ghost,

            siftings of quiet moonlight.

Quiet ticks.

Eight hundred.

Eight hundred hours.

Eight hundred hours ago.

She held my hand
and whispered,

     “Let me go.”