He makes me melt. He slowly caresses my emotions and self worth. Then bends me and molds me into this different person - like a candle. I used to light my own way. Needing nothing but the oxygen that I burned on my own power. But now there's nothing left of what I once was. I'm vulnerable. He tries to Rebuild me so he doesn't loose the warmth of me. But all that's left of me is the burnt down useless remnants of what I once was.
Native Americans used fire to represent so many things. It represented life and passion and spirit. That's what I once was. But the white men came in and spread their fires into nothing but smoldering ashes. Darkened and gone. The natives were left with no choice but to conform. as hard as they tried they couldn't keep their spirit. it was gone.
That's me. I want to be passionate and I want to do it for him. But I don't know why. I'm the native. He the white man. I the candle and he the one who broke me down. He's the one with happiness and I'm all alone. I've got no where left to run.
Recently I've wished life was a game. Then I could forfeit.
Here, I throw in my last hand.
The games not over,
but the next round will go on.
Without the warmth of me.
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