Memoir of Redound Reminiscence

And only a blink it had took. I let the fire take over and set me alight. Eager for the hope of draping me in tongues of fervid passion. The vivid hues of red had us drown into one like a bottle of cabernet. And when the last drip of bitter wine tease our lips from the broken glass, only sober eyes are left to reflect gray areas.

Now that my hands are empty, it leaves nothing but a trail of fingers skimming over bruising shards. A set of blood-stained hands still burning at the caress of what is left of the ashes.

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