Red Star

Maybe it was your flamey mane,
Maybe it was your fiery nature,
Always burning up yourself for them,
Stoking your inner embers so they could feel warm,
Burning, always burning,
Burning yourself, you start hurting,
A parching auburn phenomenon,
Love’s material form, 
But now you hurt yourself burning,
And now you are flickering, 
Spasms of warm-heartedness and retreat,
Maybe that’s why you are out of my reach,
Further, as you pull back, 
I pray you don’t let them make you fade to black,
With the things they throw back at you,
These things they throw let them be fuel,
As you burn slow, but bright,
They may not all know how to welcome warmth but they will never not need light.