edited 4: Devotion
Vocabulary Word: doggo
She was always there by his side. His one companion through the twilight as her love and light lit up his world. She gave him so much of herself because she had so much to give. She reasoned that there was no point in locking away the warmth of her love in her bosom. It was meant to be given away; the fragile passion meant to light up another's world. And if she could only do that at night for him, then she could accept that. It may not be fine, but she could live with this.
It had been that way for so long already. He used her so well that it barely hurt anymore. His fingers were gentle and nimble as they caressed her sides, and his lips would travel so near to the apex of her love and whisper such dear words. And she would flicker and burn with all her pent-up desire meant only for him. The only sign of her pain were the tears that her flame bore. They bubbled and burned until they boiled into reality and laid doggo.
They were seen, but never touched by him. She gave so much, he returned so little. Only one whispered breath at the end of the night. That one breath and the promise of another night kept her appeased. Yet it had already been too long and there was only so much she could give.
Her love was close to wasting her away. And with even the last flicker of her passion, she loved him. It flickered long after she died until his lips blew it out.
He poured out all the wax out of the dish. A new candle was put in her place. Though, perhaps, it would never burn with the light she had had.
She was always there by his side. His one companion through the twilight as her love and light lit up his world. She gave him so much of herself because she had so much to give. She reasoned that there was no point in locking away the warmth of her love in her bosom. It was meant to be given away; the fragile passion meant to light up another's world. And if she could only do that at night for him, then she could accept that. It may not be fine, but she could live with this.
It had been that way for so long already. He used her so well that it barely hurt anymore. His fingers were gentle and nimble as they caressed her sides, and his lips would travel so near to the apex of her love and whisper such dear words. And she would flicker and burn with all her pent-up desire meant only for him. The only sign of her pain were the tears that her flame bore. They bubbled and burned until they boiled into reality and laid doggo.
They were seen, but never touched by him. She gave so much, he returned so little. Only one whispered breath at the end of the night. That one breath and the promise of another night kept her appeased. Yet it had already been too long and there was only so much she could give.
Her love was close to wasting her away. And with even the last flicker of her passion, she loved him. It flickered long after she died until his lips blew it out.
He poured out all the wax out of the dish. A new candle was put in her place. Though, perhaps, it would never burn with the light she had had.