Flickering Flame

Dear, ice cold hands: You came from a place of hurt and evil. You were used to people walking in and out of your life. You perfected how to push people out of your life, just like you had seen everyone else do. With one look, you made everyone scared to present themselves to you. All the damage caused to you over the years was bottled up with nowhere to go. One day, you came across someone who spiked your interest. You never knew the outcome, or in what matter things would occur. You simply took a leap of faith, which was saying a lot for someone like you, who had a skill in keeping to yourself. The closer you got to her, the dimmer her light grew. After months of surrounding yourself with such a bright light, you began to lose sight of just how beautiful it was. You lashed out at her when things didn’t go your way. This once brightly lit girl, who was full of laughter and joy, was now barely burning and you could barely notice. Being so caught up in things that occupied your time you couldn’t see that you had burnt her out. All the pain you had felt was projected onto her. That your fascination with her and everything she had was the exact thing that killed her. Your ice cold hands hovered over her heat, keeping you warm long enough to gaze about the magnificent flame. But knowing you, you wanted more than to gaze. You wanted to hold the flame with your ice cold hands knowing that the flame would fade you still continued. As she fought to stay alive she struggled asking those beautiful ice cold hands for help, expecting them to save her. They never came to the rescue. As you stepped back to view what tragic event had just occurred, you realized just how much she had become like you and you were disgusted by the sight. You could no longer feel the same for the flame. So as you placed her down a bit of her light returned. You swooshed in again and picked her but the light went out almost as quickly as it had returned. You were unable to understand how something so beautiful could be gone and replaced with something not as significant. Finally you put her down for the last time and told yourself you wouldn’t return because there wasn’t anything worth waiting for anymore. You had been around when the flame roared with beauty, and you hovered when her light dimmed. When her flame returned from what seemed like nothing but ash, she burned brighter and fuller. Her roaring flames were so powerful; they created flames within themselves, causing everyone around to gaze with awe. The tragedy in this was her flames burned for the ice cold hands that put them out. She loved those dangerous hands because they weren’t like anything she had ever seen. They grasped her attention while they hovered over her begging for warmth. The flame gave all the warmth she had until she had no more heat to give, causing her to kill herself slowly. She hated who she became without her light, but she loved how warm he was. She gave him the power to destroy her and trusted him not to, that’s what her concept of love was. His hands grew warmer but heart stayed cold not enough heat could ever reach that chilling place. They would forever be opposites taking from one another, causing them both pain. They would only do more harm than good. Neither of them were ever the same people after this. Instead those ice cold hands went on looking for more beautiful things to destroy and the flame allowed herself to be consumed by all the evil in the world. Sincerely, a roaring flame