As pure as her complexion—
a tinge of ivory and heaven.
Her flaming wick and fire ardent,
how have they gone nowhere?
Radiating warmth in the darkest,
now an extinguished candle.
She begs to be rekindled,
afraid to die before her death.
This poem is dedicated for all the passion, interest and motivation lost during these trying times. For all the hopes and the fire that have been dampen down.
To the people reading this, I know some of you may have felt the same too. May we light up one another and rekindle the flame. Remember that: like candles, we are each other’s support system.
tell me, dear mirror.
how true is this reflection?
i don’t even know.