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Some days I feel like a burning candleLong forgotten and wearing thinUntil finally I run outUntil finally I drown myselfUntil finally my light goes outAnd it’s all my fault
The little candle burns its wick,With fiery whisper drops a drip,A passion only seen from near,A slowly shrinking, darting tip.
I love the way a flame dances;Slowly and gracefully moving aboutWrapping itself among the wick and emberMelting the air that we breathAnd how it does it’s gentle danceIt brings everything else to move with it
I lie in distant planes of a lost timeAnd my groans and sighs echo against the stones at my feet.For two waxen demons sit on my shoulderssAnd have grown too heavy for my frame.A wing made of wax cannot be folded;Neither can it bear the weight of I
It was like a candle being blown out: you leaving. My world has been dark before (it always has), but At least I had a little flame to give me hope back then.
Darling, come sit with me for a while. We can light a candle or two and watch old flames dance once more. We can speak of the past for a bit, simpler times where "I love you" was enough.
Drip drop The light is ignitedDrip drop A puddle forms, a pool of art Drip drop Forms swiftly changing Drip drop Dew on the grass Drip drop Falling, swirling leaves Drip drop The flickering shape of whimsical creatures Drip drop Tall cathedrals wr
crackling amber flame, consuming all that it can reach. tears of wax bubble down the sides, heat radiating from a lonely source. the wick curling in withering pain,
Alone in the forest of the black gnarled trees They beckon for me to join them in the dark. No moon shines bright through where there should be leaves, Just black, bare. branches and bark.
Each Candle Represents a light of hope.. Each has its time to burn..
Little Candle burning bright, dancing on beeswax and lumber. May it light flicker so after I wake from my slumber. Her little blaze is gentle, warming me with ease.