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.
I am a marketing consultant and aspiring writer, with a major in English and a minor in history. I have been writing poetry consistently since my senior year of high school and have since published three poetry books and three novels. I have also written several songs and a few short stories. I also wrote and published a trilogy of novels, my Troika book series. I am currently working on a large-scale multi-book fantasy series that I am very excited about! Writing is a part of my every day, and I would have trouble finding meaning or the will to keep going without it.
View all posts by Aaron Michael Lynn
AML Author 