Flames crackle, spreading up the corners.
They fill the air with the acrid smell of smoke.
It's acrid, but it's also a heavenly smell.
It reminds me of how fast something can disappear.
From words that seem to carry hope of something more,
To the slight glow of an ember as the last bit of ink is shed into the ground.
A flame can do so much.
It can fill the eyes with tears, as the smoke wreaks havoc on you.
It can fill your face with hope, as you are allowed the chance of a new start.
Flames can promise warmth, and heat.
They can take what you have and destroy it, leaving you empty handed.
You never know.
A flame is a flighty thing.
It can create, it can destroy.
It can sustain, it can be snuffed out.
So take that flame and do what you will with it.
Either feed it, so it crackles merrily.
Or stomp it out.
Smother it, so it has no chance to be alive.
Sometimes eats easier to smother a flame,
So that others don't see it,
Aren't drawn to its warmth.
Don't smell its smoke and come running.
Its better to be cold, in my mind,
Than to have your fire run out of fuel.