She writes. But it's not the same,

the words used to only use her hand to get  to the page

an endless river flowing richly and furiously

it's sparkling waters shining in the light like a waterfall trickling from her fingertips to the pool in rage

the water at times was icy, and rough, and stung to release

but once it poured into the pool

the ocean in her head's hurricane would decrease

so she'd go to sleep

and try to forget the dread

and every once in a great while she'd think what if

flowers could bloom after the rain showers in her head

Life is a single candle flame

Once burning it lights an entire room of dark abyss

Each candle, a different flame

some burn brightly and fast with quivering finesse

Excitedly melting the wax that covers its wick

Others soft and slow, just enough to create an orb of light in this dark world

Your flame was bright , lighting my darkness

And as I burned my darkness grew darker and in unappreciation I shielded your flame from my eyes

Blind then to how quickly you melted

Your sweet scented wax running out and to the floor

Your bright flame dimming with every avert of my eyes

Clearly you burned brighter just to brighten my darkness at times

And I turned away

And now you've melted away

Your flame gone

Your wick now bare

And your aroma no longer lingers

Your flame is out and now

Darkness blankets where you once glowed