Romantic Burning

I was going to start by saying I don't know why I do this to myself. This isn't true. It's amazing how even an inner monologue can begin with false truths. That is how this started, an inner monologue. I was watching a movie and feelings reflected, cropped up even, It's the empathy in me. Normally held at bay by my own safeguards, my barriers, walls. These are part of a total defense mechanism, one only defeated by one of two things; a warm and caring touch or alcohol.

Lets just say the former is almost 2 months from the day away from being the plural form of a length of time it takes for the earth to rotate the sun. The later tends to occur as often as the earth itself rotates. Not in excess. Back to the point. What I do to myself. I break down the walls and barriers of my own accord and expose myself to raw emotion, captured in film granted, but anything meant to invoke emotion in people, performed by credible actors does exactly as intended, within me.

To experience this film in any form of weakened state, seeing the sparks of love igniting between two people quickly over 2 weeks before the man leaves for the last year of his active duty, at the end of which war happens and he is duty bound to re-enlist and break this to her. There is so much more to it and I do not do the story justice.

What I do not understand is this. There are so many men out there who do not understand honor. There are so many that do not understand romance. After the 20+ years of genetic programming at the hands of disney and other such mediums creating a generation of women ever so more seeking romance and being swept off their feet by a "Prince" they still dismiss such a man upon meeting them and run on continuing to get hurt by bad men so they are always in delicate position fearing pain and dismissing the good guys, rinse repeat.

I am tired of thinking about it. Here I am longing of such a romance depicted, I've been there before but the fire burns out. I'll settle for the chance to burn regardless of the outcome.

Burning

There is fire inside that simmers yet yearns to consume that which my eyes wish to set upon. A sight so calescent that with each thought it consumes the very air I breath leaving less then what I had when I first held my breath. There isn't much time left now. The sands of the hour flow freely through the glass that is teasingly shaped like that which doesn't hold true to its own test. It is a measure that spans a life, the greatest of which being the first half and I do but question if that has passed. There comes a moment when it is decided without discourse that which shall prevail. Does the fire burn bright yet controlled by a master, fueling his desires and passion, or does it overwhelm him only to consume all that once was yet is all that is left.  A sweltering inferno that leaves no chance for life to grow from the ashes.