I learned how to love
like a candle.
Quietly.
Completely.
Until there was nothing left
but smoke.
Every room I entered
I tried to light.
Your sadness?
I warmed it.
Your anger?
I softened it.
Your loneliness?
I stood beside it
like a lantern in the dark
hoping my glow
would be enough
to guide you home.
And for a while
it was.
People gathered around me
with cold hands
and tired hearts,
holding them out
like I was meant
to keep them warm.
So I did.
I burned brighter.
Longer.
Harder.
I told myself
this is what love looks like
sacrifice that no one asks for,
devotion that no one notices,
a slow quiet disappearing
in the name of someone else’s happiness.
And every time
someone finally smiled again,
finally felt okay again,
I told myself
it was worth it.
Even as the flame
kept shrinking.
Even as the wax
dripped away
in small silent losses
no one ever saw.
Because the cruel thing
about people who give like this
is that they rarely stop
to ask
who is keeping them warm.
I poured love into everyone
like it was water
and I was an endless well.
But wells run dry.
And one day
I looked down
into the space
where my happiness
used to echo
and heard nothing.
The room was still full of light.
Everyone else
was glowing.
And there I was
in the center of it all,
a candle
that had spent its entire life
burning for others
realizing too late
that no one
ever thought
to save the last flame
for me.
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 9:15 AM UTC
I learned how to love
like a candle.
Quietly.
Completely.
Until there was nothing left
but smoke.
Every room I entered
I tried to light.
Your sadness?
I warmed it.
Your anger?
I softened it.
Your loneliness?
I stood beside it
like a lantern in the dark
hoping my glow
would be enough
to guide you home.
And for a while
it was.
People gathered around me
with cold hands
and tired hearts,
holding them out
like I was meant
to keep them warm.
So I did.
I burned brighter.
Longer.
Harder.
I told myself
this is what love looks like
sacrifice that no one asks for,
devotion that no one notices,
a slow quiet disappearing
in the name of someone else’s happiness.
And every time
someone finally smiled again,
finally felt okay again,
I told myself
it was worth it.
Even as the flame
kept shrinking.
Even as the wax
dripped away
in small silent losses
no one ever saw.
Because the cruel thing
about people who give like this
is that they rarely stop
to ask
who is keeping them warm.
I poured love into everyone
like it was water
and I was an endless well.
But wells run dry.
And one day
I looked down
into the space
where my happiness
used to echo
and heard nothing.
The room was still full of light.
Everyone else
was glowing.
And there I was
in the center of it all,
a candle
that had spent its entire life
burning for others
realizing too late
that no one
ever thought
to save the last flame
for me.