To Long.
To Want.
To NEED.
Utterly.
Completely.
Burning.
Constantly.
I've forgotten what it's like.
A vague Hunger for the Fire. To Feed it. To Feel it.
This is what I'm left with.
Echoes of it. Like the smell of smoke.
Still lingering in your senses, long after the dousing.
Or did you grow past it? Learn to live without it? Do you want it?
Do you need it?
(You have to Need it.)
"You're good at this. Honestly." Stay.
Or be honest with yourself.
xoxoxo
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