All This Beauty

I watch the paper crumble into itself, the words I've written charring at the gentle carress of the flame. I watch it as it becomes ash at my feet, the meaning of so many words lost. Tears sting in my eyes, as they always do after I've burned. I run my toe through the ash, smearing the torn words, the ones void of any meaning now. I think through the meaning of those words in my head again, like a never ending tape. It's always a fucking never ending tape now. To relive those moments on paper, to have them written out in front of me, hurts incomprehensionably. There are so many reasons I never want to remember what was said, what I did, what other party members did. The bite and clench of the ink pulling memories from my hand is excrutiatingly painful, but to burn it... oh, to burn those words that sting me in so many places, that burn acid through my body and tear me to tiny strips. That one moment of bliss, the hundred moments of bliss, it's those moments that make the sting worth it all.