Nov 2013
And you pushed me around in a shopping cart in the snow
while I explained to you my strange fascination with candles
why I find them to be lovely
and how they also make me sad
because no matter how much they burn, burn, burn
like Kerouac's fingertips in the night
once its flare reaches the bottom
there is no coming back
And the day after I told you this
you picked me up from school
without saying a word
we drove in your car
to our secret spot
We got off the car
you took off your jacket
lied it flat on the ground
and directed me to sit
As I did
you pulled a paper box out from your backpack
quietly
you handed it to me
Without questioning
I delicately pulled the mint green twine
until the paper box opened itself
Wrapped in thin tissue paper was a candle
and a tiny pack of Birdie
that held only two matches
Not knowing where this was going
I placed them in front of me
Gently you proceeded
and sat across the unlit candle
and two matches placed between us
We stayed in stillness for a moment
staring intently into each others eyes
I reached down for the tiny pack
and handed you a match
Taking your time
you stroke the match
as if setting flame to an unwanted photograph
You lit the candle
still in-between us both
still without exchange of words
You sat there with me and watched the shift of
its burn-rates blend with the likeness of the sun
And when it began to sputter uncontrollably
and when I began to cry
you sat there with me, still
this time by my side
breaking the silence
Quietly you whispered
in the open space before us
as if making proclamation to yourself
and to the sky
"This light will not grow dim"
And every day after you said this
I've waited for you after school
Without saying a word
I drive my car
to our secret spot
Getting off the car
I take off your jacket
and lay it flat on the ground
I take out the paper box
and place the empty candle jar and single match
before me
- - -
*your light has not grown dim
although I sit here
without the candle of your eyes to look into
I can still feel you burning
in the core of my soul
while I explained to you my strange fascination with candles
why I find them to be lovely
and how they also make me sad
because no matter how much they burn, burn, burn
like Kerouac's fingertips in the night
once its flare reaches the bottom
there is no coming back
And the day after I told you this
you picked me up from school
without saying a word
we drove in your car
to our secret spot
We got off the car
you took off your jacket
lied it flat on the ground
and directed me to sit
As I did
you pulled a paper box out from your backpack
quietly
you handed it to me
Without questioning
I delicately pulled the mint green twine
until the paper box opened itself
Wrapped in thin tissue paper was a candle
and a tiny pack of Birdie
that held only two matches
Not knowing where this was going
I placed them in front of me
Gently you proceeded
and sat across the unlit candle
and two matches placed between us
We stayed in stillness for a moment
staring intently into each others eyes
I reached down for the tiny pack
and handed you a match
Taking your time
you stroke the match
as if setting flame to an unwanted photograph
You lit the candle
still in-between us both
still without exchange of words
You sat there with me and watched the shift of
its burn-rates blend with the likeness of the sun
And when it began to sputter uncontrollably
and when I began to cry
you sat there with me, still
this time by my side
breaking the silence
Quietly you whispered
in the open space before us
as if making proclamation to yourself
and to the sky
"This light will not grow dim"
And every day after you said this
I've waited for you after school
Without saying a word
I drive my car
to our secret spot
Getting off the car
I take off your jacket
and lay it flat on the ground
I take out the paper box
and place the empty candle jar and single match
before me
- - -
*your light has not grown dim
although I sit here
without the candle of your eyes to look into
I can still feel you burning
in the core of my soul
