Beauty is in the anticipation

The yearning, the craving

The fire burning in you

Eagerly waiting until it is in your hand

But when you finally hold it, it's so powerful yet so fragile

That you cannot help yourself from squeezing it to death

You feel it crumble in your grip, turn to dust and blow away until you have nothing left, nothing but the fading memory of a feeling

I told you I'd fix it, I told you I was in control, I told you I was cool...

I lied