Monday, January 14, 2013


I have watched a fire burn so brightly the colors around it turned black.
I have watched the colors of shadows grow and brighten,
encompassing all around them,
as the flames soared higher and higher over me.
                            I could not resist the urge to reach my fingers out…
                                              I knew the pain would come,
                                 as my skin heated over the heat and passion.
The flame burned with a lust that rivaled any I had seen;
It caused in me a desire so strong tears were brought to my eyes.
               But still I reached outwards for it…
                            Longed for that flame to fill my core.
There is a fascination that comes with this kind of longing,
a curiosity of how one can come to own and control it…
I held my own elements,
it wasn’t that I was alone.
The ice that surrounded my heart was given to me,
and I had never before wanted to melt it away…
Yet this fire held my eyes and made me hungry,
made me crave its tongue against my skin.

I did it.
                                                    I touched the flame.
Toying with it for so long only made my soul hotter and hotter.
I did not know that things like this were possible…
The gift of ice was all but forgotten,
no longer cool and solid…
it was cold and hard.
I wanted to shed the ice and embrace the fire…
I did it.
I burned myself and loved it.
                One touch did nothing for me.
I stepped fully into the fire and felt its heat tear apart my skin,
the blisters and burns barely a thought in my mind.
                                    I must own this fire.
                                                                         I must control this fire.
And I did it.
       But you cannot control a flame…
The flame fades to a spark…
        No one wins.
My fire is gone now…
I think I killed it.
But all a fire needs to do is breathe,
it needs air to light it’s spark again.
The burns I have suffered leave their tell-tale marks on my skin,
                                                                             but growing colder
and colder.
I want the fire to rage.
I want to step into it once more,
be hypnotized by its passion
and have it control me the way fire should.
Not to own me,
but to burn with me.

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