All the More Beautiful

It didn’t matter how well
her picture fit in the frame,
he much preferred the way
that she fit into his arms.
The petals of the flowers
were dead on the mantle,
but the flowers were once
something so beautiful.
Sat beside them
was a jar full of memories;
ashes of skin and
the dust of flower petals.
Beautiful things don’t last
he began to understand,
and in that way, to him at least,
it made them all the more beautiful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s