Together we built the fire
that kept us warm
for so long.
You lit it up,
I watched timidly,
never brave enough
to go near it.

It was made
because you believed in me.
Beneath the timber,
we laid our promise.
We cared for eachother
so much,
we dismissed the possibility
of getting burned.

The fire grew;
it became a
large, blazing thing.
Something beatiful,
magical.
A love everyone
should have envied.

But then,
it began to rain.
Soon, a storm became present.
But you didn't try to protect our fire.
You sat there,
staring blankly into the flames.
One storm,
in a long history of clear skies,
and you were ready
to let out fire die.

I frantically ran,
weeping as I tried to
sheild it from the falling water.
But you just watched;
you didn't even try.
It burned more than
the fire ever could have.

At the end of the storm,
a single flame was left.
You walked up to it
and blew it out.