Nimechoka

I gave you my fire, my flickering flame,  

To shield you from cold, to carry your name.  

The nights I burned bright, though it hollowed me whole,  

I scorched my own spirit to warm your soul.  

I stitched all the cracks that your silence had torn,  

While my own heart lay weathered, battered, and worn.  

I stood in the storm, no umbrella in sight,  

Yet you danced in the rain, not caring my plight.  

Each ember I offered, you claimed as your right,  

Ignoring the ashes I hid from your sight.  

I bore the burden, I silenced my plea,  

But love's not a martyr; it longs to be free.  

Enough was enough—when I looked in the glass,  

And saw not a future, just remnants of past.  

No spark in my eyes, just the smoke of my pain,  

A man who was lost, set adrift in love’s name.  

So I let the fire die, and from its last glow,  

I rebuilt myself, from the embers below.  

No longer a pyre for another to take,  

I am learning to burn for my own heart’s sake.