writing

Moth to a Flame

She was a princess on her own, that much he knew. He knew she had the power to rise above everything, even in the worst of chaos, bring a light to the people, and lead them to greatness. He saw the confidence in her eyes, and he craved it. He was like a moth to a flame, sure she was his perfect match. So, he flew to her. He convinced her that she was a damsel in distress, and that she needed saving, and as he got more and more addicted to the flame, he promised her embers would grow. Flames can’t survive without oxygen, but she didn’t know that, so she let him use her for heat. She only saw her fiery reflection in his gray eyes, and with that, she became addicted too. Convinced they needed each other, him her warmth and her his rescue, they suffocated. Taking all the oxygen in the room was his fault, but it was the flame’s own yearning to fill that room that allowed him to smother her, and without the flame to keep him warm, he would fly from light to light just looking for the same high. In the end, their toxic and selfish addictions would burn in their faces, but maybe, just maybe, they’d do it all again and never learn.

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