I found my Flame.

Do you feel lonely? Or is it that you just want to be reminded how your skin feels against someone else's? Feel the warmth of someone else's breath, just to be reminded yours isn't that warm anymore. Why is that? Where is the fire inside you? You know the one that brought him like a moth to you. The one person you did not want that close to you. Because you were afraid. Because he was the one moth you couldn't see burning. Much less burn him yourself? Did you extinguish that fire just to fit in? Because he is no more here. You see, moth, aren't loyal to fires, just the idea of it. Just its lustre, that brings them to their death. Unfair. You extinguished that fire, ignoring that there are people sitting in the distance, seeking your warmth, just scared to come close on a cold night, but praying your fire does not go out. Maybe it keeps them alive? I can't say for sure. Might be. We would have to look for corpses in the morning now that you have extinguished your fire. Just so you don't burn that moth. One who is destined to be toast by the morning. Unfaithful, Lusty, Moth. Maybe your pity on it is inspired by the disgust or indifference with which people see it. Fluttering around the fire keeping them warm. I really pray you haven't extinguished your fire yet.

There is a weary traveler headed this way, in your hopes. He has logs to keep you burning. Maybe build you bigger. Maybe protect you. Its the travelers. Always. Something about an unknown man soaking in your warmth to wash away his pain and wear that just makes fires beautiful. I feel it is the selflessness in that care, that compounds when that traveler is ready to help you burn brighter than ever.

Don't mind my words. I am just a pen-bearing lust-seeker. I can't help but find beauty in the way your fire dances. Careless of the wind. Careless of the Snow it melts around my boots. Non-chalantly, just being walked down the altar, accompanied by the burning crackles of twigs and dry logs. We will dance tonight. All the way till my scotch lasts. After my corpse lays next to you and you extinguish, giving me the last of your warmth, ensuring I do not need a grave in the morning. But dance careless knowing I will resurrect you when you douse, because my coffee will never be complete without your kisses. My meals will never be the same without your touch. My cigar won't burn my soul without your pity. You and me, we are destined to be together. And when I have to move, I will carry you in my pocket, close to my heart, in the flame of my lighter, Alive. Mine.

Nishant.