#wick
stirring in a rest, whispers go for a bite.
the flame out, there was no telling who or what.
the candle relit, but wore its shades at night.
fine dark lenses fitted for a blind spot.
slowly, the fit to trick wasn't even twined.
there was quiet and troubled evening talk.
slipping out and putting in time
on another dime fractures a rock.
they called it and it wasn't kind.
no one cared for the skull scrape
fanatic brain rot mechanic antics.
ok then it was really just bait.
gotta lotta gutter squire tics
over bringing fish to store scales,
weighing in a gram off to my bit.
cheated again by the swindled hearts.
why then does the crow feed as it does
if better grain is found in farms.
shoosh-the neighbor gets the neighbor,
looking gift cups of sugar in the mouth.
unhealthy living dynamics talk is a bore.
now a thimble of sugar for breathing in and out
the worst of days, can really grease the bored.
the proof being is in something that ***** and pouts.
if anyone asks the lovebirds are tired
of the knots between their stomachs being tautened.
full of fish and sugar and lizard tails
traitors and tailors of breaking wanton hearts,
soon to rip all of their candle wicks apart.
Dec 14, 2025
Dec 14, 2025 at 2:09 AM UTC
i can’t recall when i began keeping count–
birthday, dishes, the hours i owe everyone.
perhaps it’s an eldest daughter thing,
this arithmetic of living,
the way we measure love in exhaustion
and flinch when the days move too fast.
i was twelve when i first felt the floor tilt,
when i understood that eldest daughters
do not grow up—
they evaporate,
slowly,
gracefully,
until all that’s left is the scent of wax
and unfinished prayers.
i thought i’d be somewhere else by now.
doing something that made my chest feel wide,
like when you’re running downhill and laughing.
but the world kept turning,
and i kept staying,
like someone left behind in her own story.
the candle hisses—
a sound so small it almost sounds like breathing.
i stare at it,
wonder if the wax ever resents the wick
for making it disappear just to keep burning.
maybe that’s what this is.
me, disappearing in small ways.
learning to call it love.
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
A poppy candle -
Its wick has been expecting
The scorching outcome.
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 3:39 AM UTC
Selfish are the flames of the candles,
They don’t want to share their light.
They are waiting for miracles,
In the coldness of the bitter night.
The light will come,
When it suits them.
They are giving,
When they are receiving.
Bare the light for those who wish to seek it,
Hold the hand of darkness and bring it into the light.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 9:27 AM UTC
I’m burning the candle
But not at both ends
No, for in fact I have five
The sharpest edge
Of a dying Star
Plain sick of being alive
Helping her and helping him
Ignoring myself for the sake of them
Some days I wonder
“Will I ever be true?”
When that day comes
Boy, will that feeling be new
It starts in my toes
Weary from walking
Igniting my fingers
Busy writing and talking
Then it gets to my head
As it makes its way down
Warming my heart
Burning my frown
I’m not saying that I want to die
But I’m spread so thin
I think “why shouldn’t I”
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 1:11 AM UTC
Candle- life,
Short wick-girl,
Long wick-boy.
Light- birth
Parents delight.
Candle light-life burns on fast or slow.
Wax- melts,soft with tears and becomes hard with happiness.
Candle- puff, goes out any time,
DEATH.
,
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
There is never ending pressure
To be the light in such a darkened society
But what can a candle with no wick do
Besides melt at the heat of another
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 7:55 PM UTC
Staring into the unwavering flame on the wick
Of a freshly lit candle, I nearly had a heart attack
Time too, decided to pause, the world grew quiet
And I grew sick in this endless moment.
Why was I so afraid to be stuck in one place,
All because of an unhealthy love for that glow
At the break, she danced across my eyes like
Orange brushtrokes on the setting sun of a canvas.
My heartbeat returns to normal, I breathe in
Letting all my fears burn away into ash.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 10:04 PM UTC
When you hold a flame to an unlit wick
It takes an unbearably long time to catch.
The wick is pretty and new,
Covered from top to bottom
In a waxy coating of armour
That keeps it safe longer.
When you hold a flame to a previously lit wick
It catches fire within a few seconds of exposure.
The wick isn't so new anymore,
It's walls have been burned down
It's armour is gone and the
Beaten up wick is vulnerable.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 7:42 PM UTC
To keep her heart warm
All she wanted was a spark
But fire consumed her
Intense fire burning
And all that's left were ashes
'Til the heart's no more
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
replacing your alcoholic drink
lighter fluid should do the -trick-
i want you to feel the sting
your words are the lighter
your tongue is the -wick-
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC