Why is it, that when I am with you, I feel like nothing?
Why is it that I feel bare to the flame that you resonate?
Like tongues of fire that  lapped at my flesh and burnt me red and painted me black, like ashes of firewood and embers of dying flames, illuminating the dark.

Why do you hurt me so?
Tell me, for I am not complaining.
I'm letting your hurt me, because if there is a reason, I'll gladly accept it. If you have a reason for lighting a flame on chest, free me and we can both fly away like windeswept flowers wilting in the fall; snow raining down on naked branches and frozen shrubberies.

Burn me, for I have been the one to light you.

With you, I feel like I have a meaning.

Burn me, so you can grow brighter.