Don't Play With Fire.
A childs open breath to a flame.
Mama always said "Don't play with the fire"
But he watched
On the nights
She left the door to her room locked
Fascinated with the way it mended under his breath
Like he was in control
As it swayed
One second feeling its warmth
The next
Its absence
He watched
Hues of blue and orange
Reflecting through his innocent eyes
With nothing but pure imagination of how it could feel.
So he reached for it.
As the blood rushed to his fingers
And his skin hardened, crackled
He was overwhelmed with fear
And made it
Go away.
Quickly realizing what he did
He blew on it
Harder and harder
Trying to feed the flame
Watching
As little sparks combusted
Then faded
Until there was nothing left
but a charred wick
and a child afraid of the dark.
