Obsession.

I am a moth and you Sir are my flame,

You flicker as you burn - wild, intense and unforgiving.

The brightest light in the room, I am drawn to the redness of your aura,

Your passion.

Confident of this power with which you posses, you shine,

Whilst I flap my fragile wings and meekly come forth.

I yearn to feel the depths of your being,

The extremities of the heat with which you radiate.

Yet I am not the only one who has grown so attracted to your dangerous vitality.

There are many others like me,

Constricted moths who long to be butterflies.

We have become obsessed with this attachment,

This flaming pull that takes control of our minds, our bodies, our souls.

In turn we have forgotten the strength of our own character,

Our own beautiful capability for independence. 

A fortitude with which we must remember,

Of who we were before you and who we can be after you.

For every flame can be swiftly blown out,

But I will always be able to fly.