I miss my fire. The warm trickling little flame.

I miss the heat. As though i could gather around a small speck of fire and warmth adn be sustained by that. That through this blizzard and cold. That somehow I could build an illusion for myself in the isolated warmth from a lighter . . . Taht heat, unbearable and impossible to be without. As though i am skating across the surface of the sun. And it burns me.

I miss the pain. The aching and the sharp stabbing of it. The burning, the blazing across my skin. The balckness left on my flesh of layers killed. Layers of pain. Never to be felt again, because the fire has cleansed my heart of it.

I need a flame, a small one, controlled and mine and al I have. All I need it seems.