Love Cremated Rachel Diehl I was sitting on my wooden bench when a lighter ran by, glittering glee. He lightly stopped, lit a cigarette, then cast his gaze toward me. He asked, “Hi, darling. Where is your flame? You seem so bare.” I smirked: “I’m not easily flushed. There are other candles elsewhere.” He flashed a smile, “There may be others but… true light is rare.” He sat, we spoke, my cackle filled the street and crackled till my stomach burned. We were a match and kindness kindled, But he wanted fire while I wanted to linger. I sighed, “It’ll hurt too much, you’ll burn me; I will melt, misshapen, become ugly.” His smile shined, “You will be perfect and beautiful to me.” His lips smothered mine til my soul burst into brilliance. So I let him in my heart and it glowed. Our flame grew, our rings forged, and soon… my wax melted. I was scared about our flame and what we had created, But they were precious. Wax dripped and dribbled from their tiny mouths. But he was always restless, and I grew tired, so he extinguished me. His flint shoes threw sparks; I begged him to cool down, but he just glared at me. He set fire to our house, our children, our rings. I searched through the rubble until the smoke stinged. The ashes rose in the driveway, but my flame still flickered. I had grown old and so had he. My wick was short; our children had children of their own. I heard he never found anyone quite like me; I forgave him, but I wouldn’t let him near me. 68
2020 Still Life
