colored remnants of black & white memories

those crushed cigarettes
became a work of art,
borne of the hated habits
I just couldn’t leave behind

their scattered ashes
outlined the edge
of a ruby-red, glazed, clay ashtray
and the staging seemed to beg
for someone-
anyone-
to capture their
burned-up demise
in one flawless snapshot

every hint of the
smoke-laced failure
filling the room
smelled like the
childhood home
I couldn’t run
away from
fast enough

but [the image
was more striking
than the bitter memories
were repulsive, so-]
this time, I stayed.

I developed that photograph
on black and white film,
pouring my soul through
soggy fingertips, and
letting go of so much
self hatred as the image floated
in a soothing pool of
photo processing chemicals

two years later, it still sits
on the desk in my apartment,
serving as the symbol
for the bright-winged
phoenix life
I pieced together
from the ashes

and even with its
mostly grey
color-isolation,
I still see ruby-red clay
and bright
orange embers
beneath the shadows

reminding me that
failure burns away
while beauty remains