Extinguished

We crowded around the hearth 
hopelessly seeking warmth, 
but our warmth died out long ago. 
We were left with cold stone to touch,
and even colder spaces between us.
We talked of love and of what might be
but not of the night or the things we refused to see.
We did not dare speak of the quiet nor the distance,
no matter how loud or close they may have seemed. 
Pinkies, inches apart, if only to touch, to make art-
but his marble was too icy and rigid to clutch.
Numbed by the fear of being turned to stone,
we diverted, listening to the whispers of the fire
and not to our roaring thoughts of being alone.
We watched the flames dance together,
their glowing arms licking at the dying embers. 
“Remember when we would dance like that?” I asked.
“Not really, I’ve never been one for dancing.” You replied.
I hummed softly in tune with the crackling melodies. 
He had never been one for loving me, either. 
I sighed and the fire let out a hiss in reply.
Yes, perhaps this would all be missed,
but I had no tinder left to burn
to rekindle this faint orange glow. 

Photograph by @mikhail_nilov