The place is long abandoned -- several years. I gently tread through the remains. To misstep on a weak plank or to lean against a support eaten from the inside, these would mean disaster.

I move around the periphery of the devastation, not daring to venture inwards. I call it a periphery, as it's the outermost parts, but the ruins seem rather evenly leveled throughout the whole.

Under bits and pieces of debris, I find signs of what once lived here. Pieces of hair, snapshots of lovers, images of two who lived as one. They are everywhere. It is difficult to step without uncovering one. Not wanting to destroy them, I move slowly.

Slowly out of my ruined soul, since you have gone.