He saw the flame inside her gaze,
A blaze that set his soul ablaze.
It warned of pain, of love’s cruel cost,
But without her warmth, he’d feel more lost.
He felt the burn before the touch,
Yet craved her fire, craved it too much.
Each glance, each word, a siren’s song,
That pulled him in, where hearts go wrong.
His past was scarred by love’s cruel game,
But hers, a fire he could not tame.
She lit a world so dark, so wide—
He’d risk it all to burn inside.
He fluttered close despite the fear,
Each beat a step that drew him near.
And though he knew it spelled the end,
He'd break, not bend, for love won't mend.
For better pain than hollow days,
Than cold nights lost in silent grays.
He’d rather fall, consumed, undone,
Than miss the chance to chase her sun.
So like the moth, with one last flight,
He chose her flame, and not the night.
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