I’ve walked through this dark alley of life looking for a flame. Not for light, or warmth,
just the burn. I’ve fallen for cold, stagnant water, razor-sharp obsessions, and self-pitying
brick walls. But one day when the darkness was somewhat lighter, I was introduced to
my fire. Tall and skinny, freckled face, brown mohawk…………. Hunter.
I didn’t realize
that the fire was there until the day his face lit up when I waved to him, my cold and
angry heart melted. Beautiful, quiet flame I’ll always remember him by. His kisses, his
tongue against mine, his gentle hands on my body. The way I could breath around him,
the bliss I felt listening to him talk, the pain I feel when all of the sudden I taste the
cigarette smoke from his mouth once again.
But flames always flicker in the wind, I had to leave. Go “home” 1500 miles
away from the place and the boy I love. I can still feel the tender soreness from the burns
on my broken heart. The heart I broke myself. Its midnight, I can’t sleep, I can’t think
while I see his face and wish for his caress.
Puppy love? Could be, it hurts just like any other love when its taken away. I
continue walking on though, through this dark alley. No longer searching for a flame, or
even mistaking water so cold its hot for it. I know the fire now, I can’t waste pain on
anything but the flame of Hunter. So I keep my face up and wait to wave at him, to be
blistered and red once again.