you hold sparkly things like they are candles burning a timid flame
you held me like I was the flame
too hot to hold
and no not like I was some goddess you found in good faith but more like my passion was too strong for you
didn't you know that shiny new things all break the same
my flame may be the size of a cosmic flare but it burns out just as the small match you let go of years ago did
we let our ashes tell our stories for us
we promise to burn and burn and burn
but we are all burned out so what's left
what's so special in the rubble that brought you to your hands and knees?
what made you dig in the ashes?
would it hurt if I told you it was nothing at all?