I don’t wanna burn up on my way to touch the light. Blinded by what’s bright I forget to reach out my hands and feel for the burn – my skin wants to be marked and tanned by your fiery sun. It feels too much like music because I harmonize everything into patterns, like the way you look at me and the space around us ceases to matter. A moth attracted to the flame knows its destiny and still does the same, and I know where my journey leads but still won’t steer away from the lane. It’d be in vain. I’m like rain – always building up but sometimes drizzle, sometimes hurricane. In the end I’m the storm that gets vaporized by you, brave by my sheer size but weak in front of the truth. My arguments are weak, pressure lost along the way it takes to make my point because even with all these words I do not know what to say. I embrace – the warmth and the burn and the familiar flames, anxious to end this in fire that is so proper for this desire and leaves only you to blame.

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