A/N: I don't own any characters of PJO, Rick Riordan does.
He was always there to catch me when I fall.
Always there to reject that maybe,
Just maybe,
He would turn good again.
At first, that flame of hope burned so brightly,
But that flame slowly flickered out by the wind,
That always tells the truth, no matter how cold.
The flame was full of my memories of him; my love for him, the kerosene.
It would always grow and shine,
But, if glowing in front of him,
It would be quickly doused with water:
The loneliness of my past, slowly enveloping me in its darkness once again.