Where there is light,

there is always a shadow close behind.

I trail the trim

of glow brimming her skirts.

I step so close

the burn whispers on my skin,

fire pushing my finger back.

My patience running thin.

I grasp at her hair,

light fading through my palm.

I meet her gaze,

eyes blinded by its glare.

The shadows come upon me,

tears the only burn left

lingering from my stare.

Where there is light,

there is always a shadow close behind.