Please don't fall now, my love, your light is my life.

There is something both 
glorious 
and adulterous about basking 
in the warm glow of a lamp you know 
cannot stay lit for 
long. The light is so warm and 
inviting, it fills you with hope, it 
heats your body in a cool 
world and 
makes it possible to breathe again. 
Deep, heavy breaths of 
being content. 
You could stay here
forever. But
you know that no matter
how warm or steady the 
light is, the lamp post will
not stand forever. Winds will
scar it, rain will cause it to 
rust. You can love that lamp post 
with every cell of your body
every pull of your soul
but you cannot 
hold the lamp post up.
And someday it 
will fall.
And when it does you'll be there underneath it
burned by the hot oil 
scarred by the shards of glass and 
crushed under the weight of it.
Under the weight of your love
fallen on top of you and burned
to bits. 
You can love the light, the heat, the glow, the post.
But you cannot keep it standing. You
can only pray that it's you who falls first
so that you aren't there to feel the fall,
only to cushion your love with a
dead empty body and a warm
happy soul.