i see you by the limelight every night when i close my eyes and feel this fire scorching everything inside of me. a fire that never quite turned to embers. it still keeps me warm in a way that has turned more to pain than to comfort.

now what am i, but the fractions of a person i once was. halves and thirds and fourths, counting down like i'm serving the sentence of a half-life. breaking down my hazardous pieces until i have no fiery spirit left to show my wit. until i'm just the ashes too black and feeble to be rekindled by any new pieces of dry wood and leaves.

what i want and what i need will always be two separate things completely unattainable at the same time. i'm beginning to deal with that.