Letters We Burned Before Midnight

The paper curled in spirals of black ash,
a quiet ending to a youthful dash.
Each paragraph of promise turned to cinder,
a fire neither one of us could hinder.

I watched our summers vanish into smoke,
remembering each tender word you spoke.
The ink turned orange first, then faded white,
and sailed like fallen stars into the night.

Now nothing lingers in the copper grate
except the heavy lesson of our fate.
We loved with all the fervor youth could give,
and died a little so our truths could live.