After the fire,
I sit in the ashes of 
our love.
Your hands
are burned, and 
your mouth 
is frozen. The words
that came out of 
our haze are 
still hanging in
the air. 
We let them hang; 
flow into out bloodstream.
Invade our lungs. 
Sting our eyes. 
“This isn’t working…” is
like a toxic gas. 
I wish the walls would swallow me.

But I have to be here.

“I love you,” I 
almost say. “I love you
more than I have ever loved
anyone." 
It feels so trivial. 
So small; insignificant. 
"Things start to die when love 
becomes trivial” I 
want to say. But I don’t. 
Silence maintains a little hope. 
“Love was supposed to save us,” the words 
float into the air. 
“How has it become our 
destruction?”

—Sue Zhao
Kalon AzureComment