Portrait of Love

I fastened you to my wall the day I said goodbye; confined you to an infinite space confined by black stained wood, 8 x 10–the perfect portrait, belligerently still. God damn that smirk of yours, forever besmirching my false character; no one knows me like you do, and God damn me, I am pleased.

How hot can hell possibly burn?

wood-explosion-fire-hot

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