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The Flames

The flame calls to me.
As with fire, I drink in the flames,
My eyes and tongue are thirsty for more,
The burning sweetness that nourishes my soul,
The desire burns within me at the pace of the flame.

Flickering as the flame flickers,
Steadying and growing tall and shrinking,
Swaying, brighter, weaker, longer, and lower.

Once the lid has been replaced,
My desire also burns out,
As a flame deprived of its lifeblood, its purpose.

I, too, flare up,
And slowly sputter out when stifle,
The flame calls to me and I stare.
Wanting to touch, to drink it in.

As I drink in my own flames,
A calm washes over me,
Like the light of the candle.
Warm and peaceful.

Capable of destroying ancient continents,
Yet glowing tame,
In the palm of my hand.

As with fire, I sleep in the flames,
Burning steady until there is nothing left,
To keep me alive,
As with fire, I burn.
By
Published: 11/12/2013
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