At first we were just acquaintances. Thrown together in the most unlikely of circumstances. But time changes everything, so they say. As the days got shorter, our talks got longer. Our messages more personal. But then more unlikely circumstances and you were taken away. Not too far, but far enough that our talks got short again. Just as I lost all hope and told myself I needed to forget, the most unlikely of circumstances occurred. Information was exchanged, and my hope was renewed. A small flicker burns inside me. And when we talk, even for those 15 minutes when we cross paths, the flicker grows. And at night, when we send what seem like encrypted messages long into the night, the flame grows ever stronger, ever brighter, ever hotter. But the problem with flames that grow and burn is that they often grow too large for the walls that contain them. Often burn too hot. And now, as you grow nearer and nearer to me, the flame grows hotter and hotter. The flame that once created light in my eyes and a spark when you looked me, burns too high. The flames lick my insides, burn me from the inside out. I am hurting I am burning. I am charring. I am crumbling. Once again. The flame is too much for me. Too much to control. To master. To contain. The flame. I am afraid of the flame. The flame always wins in the end. And I crumble down to be reborn from the ashes. Once again.