~ Pretty ~

~ Pretty ~
Petty … a piece of poetry
Torn and incensed,
To rueful, sweet ashes …
Oh no, no,
I do not cry,
Look … my eyes are fug and dry
It's just the false fume,
The teary, teary, wry plume,
From the burning of glossy paper,
That has coldly stung,
My heart's eye!