The Nature of Love | Teen Ink

The Nature of Love

October 1, 2010
By Thegirlinthemirror SILVER, Boyliston, Massachusetts
Thegirlinthemirror SILVER, Boyliston, Massachusetts
9 articles 0 photos 11 comments

Favorite Quote:
What happens if your choice is misguided,

You must try to correct it

But what if it’s too late? What if you can’t?

Then you must find a way to live with it.

The trees were ablaze with fiery oranges and reds waiting to engulf the landscape. The wind frolicked from hilltop to hilltop afraid to stay in one place too, long. Leaves fell covering the homely earth floor in the same bright colors worn by the merry Maples. The air had become clear, cool, and sweet, yet one could smell the soon to be frost. The world was out living it’s last party before the promise of Death took it’s hold.

My Young eyes, however , were not set upon the glory of the country. They poised themselves upon something much more fabulous, something that rivaled the majesties of God. Still, the Earth could not be green with envy for such a creature. Instead she turned at his pace; coordinated her seasons to his desire; set her winds to his same ever-moving pace. He was the globe’s young toddler; placing anyone under his spell with a single frolicsome grin; until their indulgence had turned in to a need to please, anything to see that smile.

I was not unique in my admiration. A crowd had gathered to see the young man with many tricks. He showed us bountiful wonders each more spectacular than the next: The Juggling of knives, comedic sprinkled through out the show, the consuming of fire; then, just like a dragon he would shoot it back out again. His most remarkable act was left for the end.

He danced with ease and purpose, his eyes moving with him. A graceful hand was held out a towards me; ready to spin me up in his joyful dance, ready to sweep me off my feet with a single wide eyed grin. I had turned the color of tomato from head to toe, both flattered and embarrassed to have been noticed by this dazzling species of a man. I placed my own child like hand in his and allowed myself to be twirled in to a happy paradise. Then, his hand holding mine, his arm around my waste, I gazed in to his bright eyes and saw things beyond my years.

I saw my future. A future of hand holding, kissing, one adventure after the other living in perfect harmony. It was… Fun. I had never experienced true fun before. No responsibilities able to live one day after the other. Not caring about the consequences. Life was perfect; a teenage wonderland. It was a bubbly feeling, one that raised me. I was floating on what exactly? Happiness? Love? Excitement? Air? I didn’t know. I just went along with the flow, content. I was content with the feeling; the feeling that I could touch the stars. I was anything but grounded. Up in the clouds, but not wishing to come down and face reality. I just wanted to laugh. To smile to twirl to be. To be just what I was. What I am. I was a mere twinkle, their one day gone the next, reflected in lover’s eyes, sparkling like a halo upon the head of a real live angel. I was all air no substance but that was ok. I was happy.

Then the flames leapt and all I felt was heat. His lips against mine like a quench of long carried thirst, except hot, blazing, fiery. I ran my fingers through his long hair, the hair that was just as indecisive as he, wanting to be both gold and red at the same time, Like strawberries and honey, and just as delicious. He was addicting, my own personal drug, with affects that caused my heart to race and my senses to dull, but as any druggie will tell you the high was worth it.

He was beautiful. It was the only way to describe him. His light hearted nature, the mischievous glint that sparked his gold eyes, the sense of him untamed. He was not one you could bend to your will, or be contained. He was not domesticated in the least, he was wild. He was a fire capable of bringing light joy and happiness wherever he went , but their was a darkness to him one that people often ignored for more jovial matters. For as a fire he was also capable of bringing about destruction with no ends. One mustn’t play with fire, but I was more than willing.

At last, the music ceased to play. My hand was left empty as the crowd packed their belongings. The show was over.

Once beautiful leaves were left brown and lifeless. The trees stood stark and naked. The cold took over the sweet air. I was alone. I had been burnt.

The author's comments:
an allegory for English. Can you figure out the figurative meanings?

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