The Fire

The fire started like a dying rose, petals falling effortlessly to the ground. Within each rose was a flame to be burned, the thought of you made the fire grow. It grew to the point of no return, burning for years.

The fire burned every beautiful rose that was in sight, all that was left was the blacked ground and sky. There was a flame tiny as a mouse, burning quietly.

 It split into two, always stepping on each others feet. One may burn brighter but the other is always fascinated by the beauty it captures.

The flames burned for each other, no matter the heated arguments they had. They were flames that could become the fire that once was there.