She's like a flame
And you hate the break of spring
It becomes apparent to you in the morning
After the sun grazes your cheeks
And you spot a dandelion in the field
But you hate it
Not for it's beauty, but for the way it makes you feel
It reminds you that you have to start over
And that each day is a new chance
But you hate that
Because yesterday her perfume was inside your lungs
And her cheeks were pressed against your chest
Her chapped lips were the only connection to had to the ground
But then she was gone like a candle had been blown out
Because she was a flame
But winter was over and she no longer needed to keep you warm