Written by Jacob Ibrag

This house was all that remained of

their old lives. This house was what used to be.

She grabbed the match out of her pocket and handed it

over to him. He looked through her eyes and saw a fire. It

was enough to engulf the memories in flames. They watched

on as the house was brought to its knees. These ashes were

necessary. Pulchritudinous destruction. They clasped that

hands together and witnessed neoteric foundation.

 It was intoxicating. A new beginning.

 Painting by agnes-cecile


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