The Flame of Love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is my first attempt, writing a romantic tragedy. i usually shy away from this topic. Please read my writing piece and any criticism(preferably brutally honest) will be much appreciated

Submitted: December 21, 2012

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Submitted: December 21, 2012



The Flame of Love


“Well wait a minute, please slow down, tighten up your reigns” I sat singing alone strumming my old Telecaster, I had enough of this. Being alone and moping to myself. Spending days, weeks in fact, in mass confusion, drinking alone, a few cheap bottles of whiskey to calm the soul. What the hell happened?


We had met, rather strangely at one of my gigs. She was different to the rest of the crowd, most definitely her first time here; she’is way too vibrant and bright. Why is she here, closet Emo or something? “Whose she with?” I kept asking myself. My misguided and stoned gaze kept falling on her. If I weren't’t so stoned I would accurately be able to gauge how close she was. The gig went well and we were applauded enthusiastically. The crowds have been growing even though have been playing at the same club for almost a year. Funny, I’m the only one in the band who doesn't’t want to be famous. I still want to able to walk home at night and have no one be able to recognise me. I had ignored her for the remainder of the gig, she was distracting, and it seemed as if she was focused on me and only me.


Backstage, the band and I were relaxing, grabbing a few breaths before we settle at the bar for a few drinks. I was rolling a joint for my quiet time after we leave the club, figured I might as well, don’t want to waste any of the weed. I walked out in the alley way behind the club for a quick smoke; she peered through the door and asked if she could join. I laughed and said “It’s cool”, offered her a light. The gentlemanly thing to do.


I was shy; I never knew what to say to her, I have never been confronted with suck a beautiful smiling face before. I kept thinking to myself  “what is she doing here, she stands out too much”, “is she Emo or does just have a weird taste in music?”, “Does sad music make her happy, how?” I was confused and irritated. The last relationship I had was late in high school. I got fed up with her just standing there, smoking, staring, rather kindly, “why doesn’t this make any sense to me?” I plucked up some courage and asked her “What are you doing here?” I stuttered, I didn’t want to been as dick, not giving her anytime to think I blurted out “I’ve never seen you here before, you were look at me for most of the gig. I’m confused, help me figure out this situation” she laughed, a cute childish laugh. She looked and told me to relax, explained how she found out about the band, her friend had advised her to stop by the club, “The drinks are cheap, great music” is what her friend told her, quote unquote. So she’s definitely into Emo and punk, could have fooled me, she’s dressed like a hipster. I thought hipsters only listen to that, pop rock, electronic indie bullshit.


We finished our smoke, I had lit another one as my nerves are fried, I've been with many girls before, but she makes me abnormally nervous. At that moment one of band mates had burst into the alley and demanded my presence at the bar, “Hey, you beers getting warm, stop taking so damn, you acting like a thirteen year old, talking in an alley way with your girlfriend or something” I cringed when I heard the doors open, I knew it was him, he hates it when I stand out here for ages smoking. “I’ll be in now, just let me finish this smoke” I killed the cigarette, open the door for her, and the two of us joined the rest of bar, and the band.


We had agreed to meet up sometime; I took her phone number and promised to call in the morning. I offered to walk her home, but she refused and said that maybe after the first date I can walk her home. “I thought this was the first date…” I thought to myself. She surrounds herself with this mystic. Weird, she really is a weird person.


I called in the morning, as I promised I would. We spoke for an hour or so, she wanted to go out that Wednesday. I agreed to, so we called it a date. By this point I'm even more dazed and confused. I hate clichés but what I was feeling became apparent, the only thing I can’t wrap my head is around how all of this happened. She walked into the club, said one or top hello’s to a group in the corner, set her eyes on me, I don’t think they life me until the end of the gig. So she’s as beautiful as a million sunsets, and as calculated as a physicist.


It’s been a week since we’ve met, and I can’t get her out of my head. “Thank God it’s Tuesday evening” I thought myself. Tomorrow I get to figure this mystic of a woman out, this beautiful mystic of a women.


Wednesday, we went out to eat, talked for ages. We spoke about our interests…she’s an Arts student and I’m an Honors English Literary student. She was wildly interested in my interest in English. I was perplexed by her reaction, she’s an art student and I couldn’t figure out why she was interested in why I enjoy analyzing English. I laughed her off and simply told her I enjoy writing and one day I wish to be an author. She smiled and said “That’s cute, so I take you wrote the lyrics to your bands songs”

I never replied…


That was four years ago, I though I had found the woman of my dreams, she knew me inside and out. She loved me and cared for me, gave me something I wont ever am able to find again, perhaps I will, but it won’t be potent and strong as it was with her. I always knew love builds someone to break them down, I just never thought it would happen like this. “I love you so much” as the drunken tears fall down my face, I navigate my way through my art deco apartment, which she decorated, it reflects both us in a way from her hand drawn coal drawings and the dark furniture I love this place but it sucks to be here right now. Eventually I find myself in the kitchen glass filled with ice and whiskey, the sound of Sunny Day Real Estate blaring though the HI-FI system. “You’ll taste it, you’ll taste it, when its time”


She died of cancer at age 21; it was a shock to me because she had kept it from me for a year. I guess it was her last ditch attempt not to hurt me. I would have rather known she was dying; I wouldn’t have been so stoned or so drunk. At times I really was a wreck, the music I loved was starting to affect me too much, and I relied on her to pull me out my slumps, pull me away from the world of music. I lost the love of my life, I feel broken and lost, because when she died she took a piece of me with her.


That ever powerful flame of love, the all consuming flame of love, builds a man up stronger than he’s ever been before, only to tear him down and make him feel small, weak, and lost in the lake of his own feelings and undying love for the beautiful mystic that was her.

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