An Old Flame

She was radiant. She was my sunlight. She was the fire, brave and striking. Nothing could rein in her tongue. It was beautiful. She was my story. My beginning and my end. 

I stayed with her as the fire withered and waned. Her story went on, and mine went with her. Then one day her story ended. I wanted to end mine with her. But I couldn’t. No one could. My story kept going. 

My world was over. But the world kept going. 

Years passed. My family had already fallen away. I wanted to pass with them. I threw myself into the ruins. Ready to be grown over with the vines and moss. I stayed there. I was forgotten. 

They found me there. He found me. Picked me up. The world started again. They brought me back. Introduced me to the world. If she was my sunlight, he was my moonlight. We started a new story. They all brought me back. We traveled, we met new faces. But his was the only one that mattered. His smile was the only one that meant anything.

And one day they took that smile away. Bashed it against the rocks. His story was so fleeting. So gentle. I made sure their story ended in blood. 

Everything was so numb after that. A blur. I didn’t fade into the ruins, but into the beaten paths of the world. He taught me how to travel and when he was gone that was all I could do. I wandered. There was no purpose. I didn’t look at new faces, didn’t speak to new people, didn’t see new sights. I just walked. 

I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t speak. I wanted the elements to take me but they never did. Just beat me and left me for dead. They left me bitter and battered and empty. 

Someone joined me, after a while. She was gentle, like my moonlight, but so fiery at the same time. Just like my sunlight. Her tongue was sharp, and it lashed me out of my stupor. Her wit burned. Her eyes healed. She was kind. She wanted me to speak again. Wanted to learn from me. So I spoke to her. I taught her. Time went on. The years blurred together. It was all still so numb. 

People meant little to me. After so many years and so many losses, I understood that they are expendable. Lives are so short and so meaningless. She didn’t understand that. She didn’t like that. She became angry. The story ended yet again, but this time because she ended it. Little changed. 

The world meant nothing to me, and I meant little to the world. People came and went. Souls passed me by. I searched for ways to end my story, but none of them worked. In truth, I am cursed. Years passed, and I fell into the ruins and the old paths again. Numbness is all I know. Figures passed me. They tried to pull me out of the ruins. They tried to talk to me. They tried to learn from me. There were so many. All so persistent. 

And then it was her again. Suddenly her story started back up on the page. She came back, yet didn’t age a day. And then suddenly I had hope. She was like me, even after a century. Her story would never end, her book would never close. I would never have to let go of her, ever. And so I reached for her, kept her close to me, kept her safe. But she didn’t like that either. The gentleness in her eyes was replaced by fear and the fire in her tongue was replaced with panic, panic and ice. She was ungrateful. Even hateful. 

It didn’t matter. 

She was mine.

And I would never let her go.