A lonely droplet of fire,
One sitting amongst the darkness,
Tucked into itself for protection,
Laying still and silent.
Suddenly, the crackle of sparks that
Sets the flame alight draws attention.
Glows stronger
As it captivates and lures.
That entrancing orange hue starts thriving
The second a promising pair of eyes rests on it.
Jumping up and down in tendrils of lust,
The embers urge the flame itself to turn,
To flicker from its duty
And engage in a sinful dance,
A tango towards this new angel,
One that seems to not fear
Inching closer and closer to this feisty blaze.
With shock and pleasuring surprise,
The flame too finds itself drawn to this wondrous entity,
Growing playful and daring.
Leaning forward to accept the valiant hand,
One that seems to be sculpted by marbled grooves.
The flame floats down,
Graceful and elegant,
The twirling cinders of gold adorning it with a fiery crown.
The eager wings of the angel cocoon the happy fire,
Drawing it closer into an embrace,
One filled with ardor and unquenchable desire.
Warmth encompassed every crevice,
Distracting the two from the now tearing wings and smoldering flame.
Very quickly, the warmth becomes an inferno,
Too burning and bursting with passion that
That very heat put itself out
And simultaneously reduced the angel to dregs of ash.
Because though the angel was brave,
And though he was beautiful
He was foolish.
Because made of wax was he,
And of fire she was,
And that was their doom.
So though the angel
Had no purpose without the flame,
And the lonely blaze
Needed the angel to light it up,
They were the unconscious puppeteers of each others’ demise,
A dangerously beautiful curse they were both fated with.
For their yearning was too strong,
Too quick,
Too chaotically powerful that all that remained were
But the last drops of a melted candlestick,
And the last wisps of a yearning smoke.
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