BURNT

His eyes looked at me, expectantly
Half-smile, mocking,
In the morning hours of wee

His missing hand, reminding,
Of the bygone memories,
Of unfinished, untold stories,
And of times no longer binding

And so he remains missing,
He remains, black as coal,
Black, as if, baring from his soul,

And then...a fire began to sting

As the sculpture burned, I burnt it all,

The scorned lover in me jumped,
And with that, with that I burnt down my wall.