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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.
How am i supposed to find the right words and not sound wrong
At the end of endless search,
found the precious gem.
only to give it away,
as it doesn't fit my ring
Finding the perfect wrong ones
Betty Jan 17
My polite smile is a candle

it burns

occasionally flickering

throwing shadows

eating itself

losing form

softening

when the lights go out

there is nothing there!
Lost Lilith Dec 2020
The winds howl madly
Like wolves under the full moon
Candle flames flicker and waver
Only the strongest flames will survive
But I'll soon be left with none
And engulfed in darkness
J Dec 2020
Walls, colored like vanilla,
melt against the ribbons of gray
that the cinnamon red flames breathe.
slowly, each exhale works as the tempo.
one-two-three-four-five
slow slow quick-quick slow
get on step, J, you're off again.
b r e a t h e
I taste freedom as I spin,
the air burns like alcohol,
it tells me
"pick your poison, J,
choose wisely,
and we'll show you who you are."
but I'm so tired of being
them.
so I'll sway until the traits
slither down my body,
curling around my ankle
before sneaking into never again.
I'll mix my being with the acid
gripping onto the shadows as I tilt back,
demons will nip at my neck when my
hair brushes the floor,
with my body bent,
hands clutching Hades' shoulders,
I let out a cry.
He tells me I'll get better.
we'll spin
like lies, rumors, thoughts,
we'll ****** our feet, and stomp out the pain,
the flickering will shade,
and there will be nothing but the sound
of my dancing
protesting, landing, ordering
against, on, to
the ground,
demanding to be seen, heard, known.
I'll leap across,
pressing my body close enough to Death
that I can tell you
She's just as lovely as Lust,
and She'll twirl me
until the radiation I've encountered
slathers the wall.
I'll heave until I collapse,
becoming nothing but
a heap of avoidance.
part one of
my tango.
keep typing.
Pranav Nov 2020
Candles blow.
They die out.
The fire does
and consumes the candle with it.
The fire was the highlight.
Now it’s gone-
And the candle
suddenly lost its worth and value.
It now lays grief-stricken
And attached to the floor.
Refusing to let go
of their places in the show.
It let illumination enter our world.
And now it’s dead.
We scrape its place from the floor.
Scraping away at its existence.
For this one now and forevermore.
Maura Oct 2020
Two white candles
I light each night for you
one matches your favorite scent
a lavender
the other, plastered with a photograph
of the three of us

It took three matches to light four candles
and when even that wasn't enough,
I took the red advent candle from our kitchen table,

It bled onto the white candles
passing along the flame
seeping into the wax
splashing onto my blanket
oozing into my journal

Now when I go to light the candles
they burn the wax now orange
and I drip
until I stream
and pour
longing
as these candles bleed
Answer: it takes three matches, and an advent candle
Betty Oct 2020
Hard to watch a flame
Flicker as the breeze begins
Fighting for its light
Hard to watch a good friend fighting a losing battle with cancer
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