your love, smells like blackberries and vanilla.
the candle you gave me, in a decorative jar, with a purple tint
for one hundred hours, i will burn, claimed the wick
on nights i felt alone i sat and watched the flame
i dreamed it brought us closer, but we grew farther anyway
for ninety-nine hours, the wax burned and melted and made my room, my life, smell of blackberries, and vanilla, and love
when the wick was down to it's last moments, you blew the candle out
the hundredth hour we will never see, it sits on my shelf, growing old and dusty. on nights i am lonely, i pull it out still,
your love smelled of fruits, of warmth, and of the dust that tickles my nose when i brought it close to the cold wick.