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Candles flicker
with begged forgiveness,

each tender wick
a glowing reminder,

each drop of wax
a tear sliding down
the father’s cheek.

Having lit them all,
I wait for him to come.
aisha Dec 2020
I am like Icarus

even when my wax
is melting
and I am falling
to my death

I still want
to fall in love
Icarus knew
Lane O Aug 2020
oh moon, hanging high
glowing majestic, night sky
wax and wane, firefly
another moon haiku :)
Lane O Aug 2020
Oh moon up above
The night is your dominion
Waxing and waning
Gustavo P May 2020
I could tell it was over
When the tears dried up

The fire snuffed out
Breathless
Cold

Your scent still lingers
Yet I wish for fresh air

Until it's time for my fire to flicker again
Every time, a little less wax

Every time, a little less of you.
OJ May 2020
I've always had really bad wax
Still do
I use q-tips
to pull out bits and pieces
and I can hear the world
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2020
I was used for heat
Candle lit for awhile
Snuffed out with a pinch
You made me melt but I barely warmed your fingertips
Cardboard-Jones Feb 2020
I heard them talking.
Saying how I was a fool,
And everybody knew.
Except for me I guess.
But nonetheless,
I had to see if these wings
Could fly,
Go beyond the azure sky.
What should I do?
Keep my feet safe on the ground?
But what if I
Find something no one’s ever found?
If I fall,
At least I know I tried.
When myself and fate
Collide,
I’ll greet it with a smile.
It’s better than
Lying awake at night.
Alan S Bailey Jul 2019
Windy torrents of water and thunders echo
against a silent brown house,
It's large grey doors open, shrill voices sing,
chandeliers burn...
more sounds are heard outside, like a wailing.
chandeliers burning the ceiling...
statue wax ivory figures melt, burning in their
passion, melting turned violet red they have become
hopeful, promises of painless joys, power over
wars, famine, disease and all things of darkness
are whispered in hushed "sincerity and truth"
but still vague and opaque.
Even now a banging of hail, leaves upon a pane
all the doors blow open now
and with a shriek all of wind in the drops are
scattered drenching, so even the mid morning rain
can still drip earth upon the clear white figures
revealing their true origin
rendered **** by what once made them.
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