Life of A Fire

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I always thought that falling in love is like a life of a fire.

You met and the spark began to ignite. Yes, it began to ignite.

Well, some stop to smolder, yet stay to keep you warm enough,

the kind of fire that we called friend.

But there occurs a fire in which refuses even to dim.

The story you shared, happy or sad,

every hugs, kisses, and things you’ve gone through turned to a fuel for the fire.

The fire then blaze more and more and more, and more.

It blazes enough for you both to dance even in the coldest night.

You dance your heart out,

up until time knocked on your front door.

The fire would still be there,

and it sparked here, there on the both side.

It might be a small spark, but as time blows in, and being a bastard, it is,

one of you, or maybe both of you, gradually left the dancing fire alone.

—Fascinated by the time and the sparks.

Don’t you know that fire couldn’t dance in solitude?

Oh, then distance come with a whispering wind.

It slips through the part where you left.

It sat and narrated a poisonous muse.

Yes, the room became merrier and the fire lingers,

and being alone it is,

the fire engulfed poison over loneliness.

Both of you began to miss each other,

one of you may look back once in a while,

but it is time you are dealing with, and it never fails to keep you busy.

A moment came when the fire started to fade away.

You were sad, both of you were sad.

The longing intertwined the felt of despair.

The fire slowly died, and it died.

You were sad, both of you were sad,

but realize that ashes never meant to ignite a fire.

Dyon
2016