A flame that no longer burns.
Red. Aching. Sore. Hurt.
It came so quickly. So full and pumping.
Ran into me while I was walking. Made me run to keep up.
It wasn’t the same. My run slowed.
Waiting for it. To keep up. It didn’t.
My pace felt lame. I gave up.
You know the things they tell you.
“Don’t play his game.”
“He doesn’t deserve you.”
Coming off of you was slow. Pale. Draining.
Colorless world. Tame world. And not a crayon to be found.
I don’t blame you. I wait.
For a palette.
I wake up. I look in the mirror.
You know, the one with the beautiful hand-carved frame?
For the first time in a while.
I see me. Without you. Without shame.
I feel a sputtering. Inside.
Ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump! it goes.