I loved the way the shadows hit your face. The dimming light caressed your cheeks as the candle continued to burn, and continued to reach its inevitable end as it got closer to the searing hot wax that was puddling at its base. It was the only light in the room. Every movement we made sent the candle light swaying delicately across the walls and the covers on the bed. The shadows traveled along your body only long enough for me to get a glimpse of the beauty that you exuded. I saw your eyes, your lips, and your figure for brief moments only, but it was enough to make me want to get closer. The problem was that each time I moved closer to you, the movement sent the candle closer and closer to burning completely out. I knew that I would never be able to touch you in real lighting, lighting that provided the exposure that we both wished we could have outside of the dimly lit room in the abandoned building that we currently used to revel in what we would never be able to accept. There are shadows for a reason, but there is also a reason that candles burn out. Shadows are great for hiding in, we can use the lighted parts to enjoy our passion and the dark parts to ignore it. When the candle burns out, the only thing left is the shadow. It overtakes everything and only leaves darkness, only leaves places to hide. And that’s where we stay. That’s why we’ll never be more than a weak flame running along the length of walls and failing to light the entire view. It’s why all we’ll ever feel is darkness. We will inevitably turn to ashes and smoke, never to see the light of day, just like the candle that burned out and only left an unlit, empty room. I love how the candle light hits your face, but I wish it would either burn out, or light the whole room in flames.