I couldn't start fires, you started this one.

Honestly, it was the best feeling I had ever felt.

I like to believe it was true. I was a flower, soaking in your warmth; vibrant and blooming.

Being awake was a gift. Every moment we spent together was a lifetime. I longed for morning to arrive, life with you was a life worth living.

I was never tired of you, with you, because of you. Sleep wasn't a necessity anymore.

I didn't mind sleeping, though I loved waking up.

Sleeping was lonely, I was away from you.

You were leaving soon and I couldn't stand the idea of not grasping every minute I had with you.

Waking up was wonderful, I was with you.


The spark flourished into a grand display. I showed you who I was, who I wanted to be, who I am. You loved every version of me.

We promised we would wait. You would come back and we would be together again.

Life would go on and everything would fall into place.

You always wanted dogs, I just wanted a nice place to bake cookies. You were what I really wanted, and I for you. We were going to have it all.

Then you left.

The fire began to shrink, no matter the kindling I gave.

Debately, it's the worst feeling I have encountered.

I imagine this is what a tree feels like when all those winters finally took a toll and now its grey, hollow, and decaying.

I can't sleep, yet at the same time it's all that I have the motivation to do, and even thats not constant.

I sleep because sleep happens, it sneaks up on you and quiets your mind as you fall.

I don't mind sleeping, I hate waking up.

Sleeping is okay, I'm reunited with you.

We live a happy life together, we have two dogs and a blue kitchen.

Waking is awful, you're still gone.

Keeping a fire blazing is a task that I did not master.

I've come to the realization that everything we promised each other was a lie.

We won't be getting back together, we wont still live each other in two years, we won't see each other grow and thrive. We'll be distant.

Acquaintances at best, giving an awkward smile as we pass each other at church. Late night conversations will soon be forgotten.

I've already lost the letter you wrote me when you left.

You no longer tell me you love me at the end of your emails and my desire to write to you dwindles with each passing week.

Its been two months and already it feels like forever.

The embers dying out with each passing moment, but I can't start a fire.