“Our love was a bonfire,” I whisper. “You wrote our names on a tree once… I know you remember.”
I stand here at the tree. Embers of my passion sprinkle down around me. “I hope you feel the heat. I hope it touches you. Burns you.”
The ashes fall lightly on me.
“You said once you loved me. But you didn’t. How could you?”
I wonder, Will you know I did this? Will you even see it?
Our tree is gone.