What scent would it have?
Perhaps an old book
with a hint of cut grass.
The calm of the rain
and smoke from a wood stove.
Would it be the color of my soul?
Would my soul even have a color?
A color unimaginable,
and a scent so bizarre?
If my heart was a candle,
I would never let it burn.
Not in fear of a short life.
Not in fear of the unexpected.
Although the smell may be pleasant;
the flame may be beautiful,
someone is going to get burned,
and when it is all said and done,
what is left?
Something unrecognizable?
A remnant of the past?
A memory of what was
or what could have been?
Everyone wishes for more time,
but I wish I could freeze time.
I wish I could hold on to the moments,
the ones that mean the most,
the moments when I felt most human.
If my heart was a candle,
who would lite it?
Who would extinguish it?
Who would gaze at it?
Who would smell it's aroma?
Who would know it exists,
before it burns out?
Who.
If my heart was a candle,
who would I be?