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The Gnat

A gnat floats gently to the flame
Beckoned, entranced, swaying
Hollowed out, filled, and warmed the same

A spark, it jumps - pricks away a wing
The moon blinks, shining down haltingly
The march continues, the night air stings

My one, you burn, I have nothing left
I promise I would never look away -
I’d rather be yours