I don't want you to fix me.
I want you to help me.
So that others don't try to fix me.
To live without love
Is a rather daunting prospect
To live constantly with the candle held next to the flame
Waiting for it to ignite
The wick lives its life unlit
Oblivious to what it feels like
It watches the other flames
As they dance with the wind
So easily movement comes to them.
Each time a spark appears
It's hope presses it out
It runs away from the fire
And yet yearns for it when it's gone
The heat burns through it's centre
But the wick is numb to the sensation
Unable to let it in, the flame disperses
It sits there. Alone and unlit.
Until eventually even the wick disintegrates.
Collapsing in on itself.
It never knew the taste of fire