So this is it, a flame on a long white candle
Once a powerful and intense heat
Generating enough to allow the pearl white wax to drip down,
Creating a small puddle of hot misery on an ebony table
Waiting for someone to scrape it off once it hardened into deep sorrow
The fire, getting hotter and hotter, allowing for the misery to build up and grow larger
Not yet hardening, but merely haunting the person awaiting to scrape it off
The fire became weak, suddenly, all at once
And the misery started to stop making its way down to its black death
The wax hardened, leaving a terrible mess of forgotten memories that I’d always remember
Memories I will never regret
Now, I must begin to scrape them up, and remove them from the surface of the table
The table being my pure heart, now tainted with this candle’s misery
And once the wax is completely removed, and the black table is left with nothing but scars
There will be nothing left of you, but your mark on my clean heart
Now stained forever with the memory of your misery,
You carelessly dripped on my expensive table,
Leaving scratches that paint will never fully cover up,
And leaving me with the memory of you
A flame, on a long white candle,
Burnt out far too soon.