Oct 2, 2018
No fire, no heat is ever so beautiful and dangerous,
than the rose-colored rainbow sparked by a firework.
No pure smile is ever absent until the glow subsides,
but no darker color is darkest still when the fireworks leave the night.
As you close your eyes, its afterimage haunts you still,
it inhibits your nightmares and take roots in your dreams.
Yet how much warmer was the firework had been,
is also how cold once the fireworks dim.
As a fire that burns from passion, it must be fed,
for like a flower dried, it’ll wither and end.
When the heart is forgotten and passion subsides,
it signals when the fireworks stops lighting the skies.
