in the first flush,
i tend to burn brightly
intensely
fiery.
with a ravenous hunger for the new
the unexplored
& just as quickly,
flicker
then fade
into a subdued
glow.
the kind of hushed light
that becomes so small,
so quietly
that one would barely even notice.
like a steady
glowing
nightlight.
a comfort for its presence
but void of any real warmth.

& i can never remember,
at what point i let my flame
become a $1.97 glass Made in China bulb.