What's the point?

I look at the screen and type the words but it means nothing

without you. 

I ate and I slept and I worked but 

nothing cooled the fire burning inside me. 

The same fire that was sparked when you said yes for the first time

The same flame that fed off your kindling promises

 your ethereal presence 

And bewitching intelligence. 

I never noticed how expansive it was, 

 till it went untended

And started to burn where it wasn't supposed to.

The first week all I felt was searing pain that I misstock for greaf. 

Greaf from losing you, my great fire tamer.

The second week I felt the first tree catch fire, 

oh how it burned

 It’s hunter green conceding our oranges and reds,

And while it withered and turned to ash I felt the acrid smoke in my lungs. Charring them.

The third week the forest

 we planted 

when we first kissed 

was only dust and ash.

Every time I ate it felt as if I were consuming charcoal instead of 

food. 

The fourth week our city started to burn. It's already despondent inhabitants watching in terror as their homes burned.

I heard their pained screams and broken howling every time I closed my glassy eyes.

On the fifth week the last inhabitant died,

I watched as her flesh charred and her lungs cooked, I watched as the last light went out and I screamed for you.

I have nothing left,

except the flames of our passion.

I wish they'd go out, 

but all they do is burn.

So I stare at the screen typing my last goodbye,

And think 

What's the point?