I held you high upon the sturdy shelf.
The strength that cradled you as a child
The love provided, deprived of one's self
To place gently into thoughts gone wild.
Outlined in silver--such a precise stand
For the one who could never fall in life,
What a tiny, beautiful grain of sand
I burnt to a charcoal in its own strife.
In every glance of you: one thousand words
Demoting me from love to rare hatred
The one I hate, with no voice to be stirred
Nor a body or true voice to be bred...
As I burned you with anger, you faded
I knew for sure that memoirs are jaded.
Author notes
It's about a picture (metaphorical or literal) for those who can't figure it out. 
A contest entry
- Ashes Alive by angelfalls.silently.
400 points, ended September 4, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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