Life passes - an endless bed of memories.
But why must I endure them all alone?
A lingering kindle flame, stubborn and wild,
reaches out for its savior,
yet slips, barely held.

Gently, I yearn for a touch -
to soothe the shivers echoing through the floor,
each tremble nourishing new heartbeats.

If life meant to crumble, piece by piece,
without softness -
it will forget
what strength ever truly meant.

A bouquet of flowers, dripping wet,
neglected,
spoken to with retort -
when all it ever wanted
was a little warmth
to stay alive just one second more.