Fire.

Fire. It's possibly one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen. It burns without taking notice. It will rage on until there is no more fuel. It's dangerous. It's out of control. It's beautiful.

Love is a lot like that fire. It can be out of control. It can be dangerous. It can be beautiful.

What happens when that fire dwindles though?

Fire can't stay lit forever.

Is this metaphor even accurate in accordance with love? I honestly don't know the answer to that...

but keep on burning...