He swept into her world,

Like an ancient knight,

Sweeping her off her feet,

His lips dripped with honey,

His eyes sparkled with promises,

His hands were expert,

Sculpting and molding her every curve,

He seemed like her missing piece,

Like a moth drawn to fire,

She was drawn to him,

The pull to him,

She could never resist,

Even when all fire held in stock for her,

Was danger,

She flew towards it,

She got burned,

Her wings fluttered in protest against the flames,

But it was powerful,

And it overpowered her light wings,

Her wings intertwined with the wind,

A wisp of reluctance clung to her remains,

And even though the fire had destroyed her,

She still held on to the promises it had given her.

The fire that pulls in her naivety and only leaves her burnt and in ashes.