When we think of flame, it is usually connected to something like fire, negative: anger. In this situation, it's not really anger but more like a spark. The spark of a flame that stayed with me even after years have passed.
For me, it was for someone that I cared deeply about—the person with whom I bonded the most.
If I think about it, it's been around a decade since we've known each other, and though we are separated, I've been hoping that we would somehow cross paths again.
The spark has been there, stored secretly, because no one should know that I long for the connection we have. It's still there but only expressed when the two meet. It's like a flame that is put in a glass to prevent it from spreading in a room full of flammable objects.
It's hard to keep the flame small when it gets bigger with every interaction.
“I've never lost my flame for you.”
Now that the flame is even bigger, every small thing reminds me of you.
I keep saying that I'll have only a small group to talk to, but I most definitely prefer being alone. Those words of wanting to be alone vanish when the talk is about us hanging out together. Well, I don't really like going out, but the plans you've talked about are what would keep me awake.
It’s a testament to the feelings we shared and the hope that our paths may cross again. The memories and the warmth that flame provides, guiding me through the connection to be felt once again.
Not even confirmed, us going out still gets me a little excited about the thought of us spending time with each other after years of not being able to meet.
The flame I never lost has kept me warm in times of loneliness, reminding me of the connection that once was and the hope that it might be rekindled. It's a delicate balance between keeping the spark alive and allowing it to consume me, but it’s a flame worth tending.
