93 Ember: A Love Letter to Memory Arizona Metzler Luminescent shadows glow before her eyes. The ice shrouds her shoulders, 昀椀xated on faded thorns. They well up within her gut. Faded, escaping the polar grasp, her hands shroud the after picture, trying to hang it up on walls with singed frames, and weathered with stale sands. Caught by the slow burn’s glow, extinguished pulses, she procrastinates the inevitable, and hides from divinity to stay with the faded burns, clinging to the smoke. In the colors of this narrow path, all she can say is, “I remember when.” The faded warmth shadows the day, the weathered burns cascade from scorching 昀氀ares that bring ice cream and murder, leaving behind pulsating stillness, and sweater suns. The crunch of burgundy and vermillion under pitter patter, the faded scent of chrysanthemums, and promise of old- fashioned apple cider. A simpler time is when the love burnt brightest, and blood ran thick. Comradery and paper airplanes used to 昀椀ll the air; the faded sun used to set here. On the hills and in the groves, the glow singed with stale sands, with hair burning like hers, they ran and played, they burned brightest. The warm 昀氀utters around from the treetops, and lays where they both did on the ground. Dopamine 昀椀lled slow-motion images, weathered and framed with singes. Warm hugs faded to afterglow as the ice creeps and stalks. The warm sweaters to ashes with remembrance, and wilted peace lily’s where chrysanthemums used to lie. Nothing left but the after effect, the lightning glow that stains your eyes when they close, forever burned in the shadowy glow of remains. All that was left was “I remember when.”