Her love is a star so fragile it may burst,
the feverish glow of a lantern in the deepest dungeon,
illuminating my heart, when all else is cursed.
Her light becomes weary and flickers like a butterfly,
I oft fear our love will dwindle into cinders and die.
But still the candle burns brightly,
drips through the night.
Together, we could torch the sky.
© 2010 Florence Challender
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