Burned Letters

I burned the letters.
The letters I wrote
Back in my desperate season.
Or the-hope-filled-saga
As I would like to call it.

I burned it all!
No trace to find,
No words to remind,
No memories to confide,
No more nostalgia to behold.

For better or worse which lies ahead
I burnt the bridge of yester-years.
I cut off the ties,
For a sole reason of
Forgetting.
And erasing.
Only to find myself
Distraught and bereft.

My mind thought
And acted.
While my heart,
My heart is mushy and faint.
And cries over, now,
Not for a lively ink of my words,
But for the ashes of my thoughts.