How to exist around a campfire

How to exist around a campfire?
Well, I don't really know...
Laugh when everyone else laughs?,
But I've never gone with the flow.
After all, people come and people go.

But I'm quick with a joke,
not so quick at being real.
I'll show you some parts,
while I give you my spiel.
Little snippets of me,
just to see how sharing it feels.

I'll toss out a story,
then stare at the flame,
give you something that's true
without giving its name.
If you handle it gently,
just maybe I'll do it again.

The fire makes shadows
that dance on their faces.
Funny how being together
still leaves so much open spaces.
You're sitting right near me,
I'm miles from this place.

You don't even know
you're kept at arm's length.
I make distance look easy,
almost make it a strength.
A laugh is good armor
when worn at full length.

But fires burn lower.
Good evenings must end.
The crowd wanders off
until strangers are friends.

I can scare you with ghost stories,
of old lovers and flames,
the ones who still haunt me
though I don't speak their names.
Some left with a whisper,
some left with a fight,
and some only come back
when I'm alone late at night.

How I wish that some person
would stay after the rest,
when the jokes had gone quiet
and I've run out of jest.

No questions.
No digging.
No "tell me what's wrong."
Just sitting beside me
while embers glow on.

But that's too dangerous.

Because somewhere near morning,
beneath smoke, stars, and pine,
I would move my chair closer
and forget where I drew the line.

So don't make a thing of it.
Don't ask what it means.
Just stay back, stay where you are
in the smoke and the trees.

You only get what I present
Because I'm still holding you at arm's length.