raquezha May 14
Your love is like a candle
limited but radiates a bright energy,
the longer I stare the faster it melts
but it melts inside me

I don't mind dying if you're here with me
I don't mind crying just like how you melt with me
Say goodbye now, at least we're here trying
Emma Apr 16
I imagine her name is Lavender,
the woman behind the counter of the Yankee Candle.
Her face is creased with the years she's lived,
her hair clutches desperately to her head in blonde tendrils.

She's not an ugly woman,
in fact, I'm sure she was once beautiful,
the kind of beautiful that men clawed each other's eyes out for.
She probably gave them a red-lipped smirk,
complained about their advances, but secretly loved it.
She probably had trouble holding on to female friends.

Now, she is an echo of that woman.
Still beautiful, but existing in her fading forties.
Small frame, careful makeup.
I wonder why it makes me so sad to look at her.
ShowYouLove May 5
Oh little flame how bright you burn
And from darkness you will turn
To bathe us in your little light
And guide us through the darkest night

Oh little flame of Holy Fire
In your simplicity you do inspire
You remind me that I too carry
A light that makes the darkness less scary

Oh little flame you are strong
And yet you are so frail
You illuminate the right and wrong
Your little light will pierce the veil

Oh little flame oh cherished glow
Don’t live too fast but take it slow
In living there is sacrifice
In giving there is a price

Oh little flame oh light divine
I hold your light and make it mine
I will shine for all to see
The difference you have made for me
em May 5
You remind me that I am good.
Even when I am a million miles away,
Hovering above this body I live in,
You carry in a breeze
A freshness that blows out the cobwebs
In a soft way so I don’t feel the tearing
of sticky string from the parts of my head clothed in shadow.
Thank you.
I can breathe again.
smells like jasmine & honeysuckle
slowly and softly,
we drip back into our own little worlds,
composing the structure the we each need to survive,
yours being the complete opposite of mine,
but that's okay,
because a drop of wax can build a new candle,
and all that candle needs is a spark.
a sudden burst of excitement!
because, wow, we have something to talk about!
and we talk and we laugh and we smile,
sometimes by ourselves, and other times in each other's company,
and we never think this fun is going to end,
because how could it end?
the pleasure has only just begun!
in the beginning, it starts out like this:
you talk to me, I talk to you
back and forth
we don't really know what we're talking about,
grasping at various ideas until we find some sort of connection,
and once we've found that connection,
it has started.
effie ebbtide Apr 30
the shape of fire is the shape of orange
the orange of fire is the shape of shape
the form of the form is a constellation
upon which cosmos dangle over
flames upon which flames dance and
upon which smoke creeps and
where candles bloom into bouquets of
melted red and white wax but
it remains marbled, not pink yet
simple addition crumbles apart:
add red and yellow and mix
all you want but they will remain
separate, swirled but separate;
the color orange is the color of candles
the candles of orange is the color color.
Lily O'Quinn Apr 24
he strung pearls round my neck
and I strung him from a tree
as he choked his final breath
I crooned, “save a spot in hell for me”

a kiss of red upon his cheek
the ghost of lust haunting his lips
as imprinted on his memory
as the bruising fingers on my hips

he thought me as a canvas
he could paint to be refined
pretty to be looked at
touched with detachment of the mind

the fool should have kept his pearls
and found another portrait to admire
for if you give me a golden candle
I’ll set your world on fire
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