I was five years old when my mother told me to stay away from flames because they can burn you even if they look pretty. I was fifteen when I knew you were that flame she warned me about. The fire that was too beautiful to stay away from no matter how much it hurt.
But how can something so mesmerizing cause so much destruction? I always wondered.
Not only were you an irresistible flame of everything I wanted, but broken glass. I still touched you when I shouldn't have.
It's funny, though. They say sometimes the one you want the most is the one you're best without...
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