ashes and snowfall

one day I will be nothing but ash,

fingernails, hair and bones reduced to the dust on your shelves,

no grand finale, no thunder clap or lightning flash,

no memories strong enough to save ourselves,

because you and i,

we will be tiny pieces of people long gone,

just forgotten heartbeats and laughter high,

scarves blowing in the wind carrying wool and nylon,

so spit out your silly last words,

of love and daft goodbyes,

because none of us are special,

not really, so don’t even try,

when ash mixes with snow,

and your bones find a home in the ground below.

Categories: Poetry

Imy Brighty-Potts

I am the founder and editor of The Hysteria Collective, poetry writer, play lover and Philosophy and Politics graduate. Hobbies include wine, cheese and coffee. @imybrightypotts on Twitter. @imyiswriting on Instagram.

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