Thoughts Left Behind

Burning (Romance)

*Romance*

Flames licked the ceilings and the walls, eating away at the curtains and banisters. The orange glow filled the ballroom.

In tears I held to Jonathan's cooling body in the overheated room.

The salty substance streamed down my face as I caressed the same cheeks that revealed precious little dimples whenever he smiled, the same lips that opened in awe when he saw me in a new gown, the lips that caressed my own so often before.

The sword in his hand had fallen from his grasp as his last breath had left him not long ago.

My wails were eaten by the greedy crackling of fire that would devour everything, every sound around us. Its fiery jaws blocked every exit, waiting to nip at me as I try to run into the clear, cool night, a shocking contrast to the burning golden ballroom I knelt in.

Soon there would be nothing left of the love of my life, his proof of existence would turn to ash and I was so afraid to let go.

But I wasn't about to leave.

I didn't want to leave. Not without Jon.

He was all I had left. I didn't want to live a life where my aching need for revenge would slowly eat away at me, eroding my resolve to try to live happily again, poisoning me until I am rotten to the core.

Instead, I would rather let the flames of my sorrow swallow me whole now as the burning fire was sure to do so soon.

I was not to live a life where I was alone, with only memories of Jon to go by and the thought at the back of my mind to find the man that set the fire and trapped us here after running a sword through my first and only love.

No, I would stay with Jon.

I closed my watering eyes that were beginning to burn from the sickening smoke choking those unfortunate enough to still be in the same building and rested my head on Jon's hard chest, trying to ignore the crackling of flames.

I could hardly breathe and I could no longer tell if it were because of the smoke or the heartache I was going through.

As darkness began to descend upon me I was greeted with the sensation of being lifted, strong hands gripping me behind my knees and behind my back. I was too weak to lift my head and fight to stay with my love on the floor of the fiery structure and let my head loll back into the mans chest in defeat.

The last tear I could muster trickled down my cheek.

I did not want to leave. I did not want to live.