A Moth With Ashes For Wings

Cheers to us laughers, drowning our sorrows in drinks. That's Fanny to the far left, my best friend Jessie in the middle, and myself at the far right. Pic from yesterday, when I managed to break yet another necklace, drop my bracelet in the beer, have my foot stepped on no less than eight times, meet and regret my Firefly, and once again fall in love with my now black-haired, beautiful, wonderful Pearl.
_______________________________

Funny I should write that yesterday... funny it should come to my mind. Later that night I caught sight of my Firefly. And a train of thoughts and emotions started pacing and racing through me, a chain of memories and glimpses from the past bursting into me, like a flood, a river, a jumbojet. The defences must hold. They will hold. They will not hold. I can still feel the fluttering of your wings upon my skin... I can see your shimmer, your fire, your light... I'm thrown back in time, to the first time, the innocent time... before you left me. There is no sense in this... none at all... There's no use in repeating your past, you'll only lose what you could have in the present. But still... it's a nice daydream. Trying not to think of how helpless a moth like me is when a Firefly like you has burnt my wings into ashes. Forever damaged, forever traumatized, you left only a shell of me behind for others to try and fill but always to fail. Cause even if our fire was short and intense, together, Firefly, we were fucking fireworks while we were on fire. And no steady glow could replace that...
Or could it?
- Poet in the Jar