stories I'll never write

eleven.

He was like fire and I was like gasoline. He was bright and fiery. Catching everyone's attention when he passed. I was dark and quiet. Living my life by trying to stay away from the light. But then I came across him and I couldn't stop myself. I let his flames drown me and grow bigger. I let him grow and consume all and I let myself be taken over. I let him use me to brighten himself. I told myself no, never again, never get attached to the light, never help to let him grow brighter. But his flames they're so Inticing, but his whispers so intriguing. I still find myself attracted to him in the worst of ways. Now I know what he'll do, I've seen him do it to me over and over, but now I've become so attached and suddenly I like the way it feels. So I know in the end he'll have used me all up, but he's the fire and I'm the gasoline and I can't seem to stay away so pour me up and watch me burn.