Fire’s Death


The cold mountains rose above us and we did not run nor hide. We stood in the middle of our dried, green grass while waiting for the soft drips of the gentle stream water the cleared, once green field. We had our fists clenched hard we could see the red fluids break from our skins. Our eyes were burning for passions, but one of them turned into ashes and the other one was still in flames; hoping.

The sun died with the elusive clouds, leaving both of us with the sorrowful moon. Nobody was moving from neither of us, but one of us wanted to clear the fogs surrounding the heart.

And I was that.

Though you did not let me.

The ice of the cold mountains began to melt until it touched your ashes. My voice was the only sound heard against everything; all seemed quiet and sleeping. When the ice–so cold and blue–covered your whole and I could not see you anymore, I could feel my flames slowly flickering until the coldness wrapped my body.

Though I was still here, trying to light the fire you had killed.



let me hold your words before you leave;

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