Sparks

Sparks are a funny thing... see sparks never really go out.
They arent like fires, which you must feed, they are the start of the fire.
Now the fires gone out, yes almost certainly.
But the spark
The Glint is still there... and it hurts.
I keep it submerged.
But it arises, and flickers
It burns
Stings
An itch deep deep within
I just need an hour, think with me.
One hour, but i know its not enough.

One becomes two, then two becomes one night
Then a week, month
Then I sleep at square one.
But the spark
So beautiful when it lights
For that brief but albeit... spectacular moment
Its alive.

I crave that again.
But i dont carry the torch...