Burned by Winter

Loving me must’ve felt like trying to light a candle in the middle of a hurricane.

I know your hands probably ached from shielding the flame, from trying so hard.

And I don’t blame you if one day, you just let go.

I don’t judge you for deciding to let the wind win.

Sometimes the fire doesn’t die because there’s no love, but because something stronger won’t let it burn.

And that something was me.

I was the storm.

It was me, blowing without meaning to, extinguising the little pieces you still tried to save.

And though it hurts, i get it

No one stays to burn for someone who only knows how to be winter.

It wasn’t fair to let you wither for someone who never learned to hold what they were given without breaking it into pieces.