Yesterday hid behind the dense
switchgrass
on the look out for us
to light candles of thought,
so it may remind us

of scent, quiet but lingering,
of a fragrance, infused beneath memories’ skin
and ferry us back in time.
seeking forgiveness,
seeking that we might forget,
on the eyes of restlessness an obol shall rest
and leave what was as dead,
as if a rash, cooled to no longer rage,
to no longer itch.

Yet, we can’t forget.
Unbidden, yesterday returns as spring
but with a hint of winter
and the frailty of things.

Do must we,
But break clocks
And wish gears lost,
In the end we are found
On the road where we
left our ghosts.

my soul is made of
moonlight and pixie dust.

i find myself in them.
i see the way the moon changes me
and how magic brings me to life.

my heart is made of
fine art and scented candles.

i see myself in the strokes of oil.
feel all my emotions poured out in perfect pigment,
feel my soul storm soothe as i trim and light the wick.

i hear my inspiration
in music and nature.

i listen to my thoughts in song
as if someone has dug through my mind,
and i see leaves as a reminder that change is good.

isn’t that beautiful?
to find yourself in all of the smaller things?
to be everything all at once
and still feel free?

Most people have had a moment where they are just living their life, and then suddenly their nose picks up on something and they are brought back in time. You walk into a restaurant and a smell takes you back to being a child on Christmas morning in your grandmas kitchen. Maybe you go to a new friends house and their hand soap brings you back to moments that you haven't thought of in years.
    This is such a strong phenomenon that most people can give you an example of, and it's very interesting. Scientists believe that this is such, because the parts of the brain related to memory, and emotional memories specifically, are directly connected to the parts that decipher our olfactory senses. These associative memories are often very vivid and visceral, because the connections are so strong and direct within the brain.
   I have burned every candle we bought together down to the end, partially because I want to forget you, and partially because I'd do anything to be taken back in time to the way things were for just a second.
  Its actually been weeks since I threw the last one out. If you're wondering, it didn't work. I wasn't brought back to better times. But as the last breath of life burned from the wick in the cinnamon apple candle you loved, I smiled.
   Its time for me to buy new candles, and I am so excited.

Candles light the way to your destiny.
Will you lose yourself in the vision or the flame? The candles light the way to your destiny.
But you decide whether or not
you want to continue the game

~
Pieces of this and that

From remember when

It used to be a flowershop

She used to smell of roses

Panting church candles

Now and again

From the quiet corner of absolution

Eyes closed to the dusk of sensualité

In search of lost time

"yearning for a song of reply"
~

Dust settles between this continental divide
I, on one end, a fleeting candle wick
Burning slowly, hopelessly against this cold
And time, like fallen clouds,
Does everything to hide the sun.

I practice dancing to sounds of silence
Distances become all too familiar
and like melted wax, I fall to the floor

hoping that before you walk away
you will break this barricade of silence
that time has built around us

She sprawled out across the sky, bored,
Perfectly sun-kissed.
From a distance she could fit
In my hands.
Day, the name we hold dearest
Day, the name of the memory I placed
her above all else.
I too, lay sprawled out, beneath her.
The intensity of how she makes me
feel,
A region I know well, sweltered &
swollen,
Without walls or halls to contain the
effect she has on me.
She took my hand & gave me the gift of
her presence.
My heart but a burning bush from this
intense percussion, this rapid sensation spreading steadily, rapidly.
A giant in my eyes.
I've climbed the highest building &
collapsed beneath her.
Black & wilted,
I am the wick without promise of
tomorrow

How am i supposed to say
what i want is not attention
it's reassurance

what i want is not sympathy
it's support

how am i supposed to say
i am battling..
with myself.

At the end of endless search,
found the precious gem.
only to give it away,
as it doesn't fit my ring