Separated by fireflies

When you’re gone there is a rip in my reality,
a black hole where you were standing, eating at my soul.

Red flames become the wood, providing warmth
with small fairies of fire loving all who feed them.

The hungry beasts will never cease
to be what it desires.

I’m always colder than the driest of ice,
wishing in wells to be whole once again.

Desolate and alone, lost in a desert of my own making,
shivering against the apples of the sun.

Violets reach out for butterflies in love,
mold creeps away, waiting for the last flicker to die,

letting it flourish in the dark,
while I beat against the torrents of wind.

It’s always like this, when you’re gone;
since I am always missing you.