Pétale meurtri

I tried to remember her, but memory blurred her into this.
A wreck of beauty, an ache that refused to resolve.

When I close my eyes, I can’t see her clearly anymore.
The harder I looked, the more it broke apart. Like a body dissolving into shadow.

She was still there, but already fading.
Her curves breaking into fragments, her light smothered under darkness.

This is what remains: not her body, but the grief of it. The ruin of her.
A ruin I keep because it’s all I have left.
A beauty too intense to survive memory.