Candlelight Vigilance

I’m beginning to think that people are candles.

Burn, little candle, burn
burn bright.
Use your golden glow to pave the night.

But then I see past the light.
Wax drips like blood to peel the flesh from life.
And we sit in rows and burn
and our flames yearn to reach out and embrace the night sky,
and I wonder why
we always forget.

The hotter a candle burns,
the quicker it burns out.
I choke on smoking hands

and I am doused.





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