''Candles''

''My dreams are made up of the wax that's a residue from the candles you burn for me.

It was a light, I never knew.

How much the silence was hungry for you.

Oh, but you prevented it so easily...

Made me scream, holler there, and you know it.

My head hurt.

It still does.

Especially when you left me against the wall that night, another candle for you to burn.

Melted wax leaking from parts of me.

What the hell? Just what have you done to me...

I'm not a rose you drop on the floor, the one I gave you for our anniversary.

And I'm not supposed to be just a pillow for you to hug every night.

You told me we were gonna have fun, and fun we had, but your kiss left me with a sour aftertaste.

Another body you threw.

Just for tonight.

Candles, the both of them . . . lighting the neutral dark of that room of ours...

Your shadow's still there, by the way. That silhouette that hung over our bed.

You said you had to study for something else, and, concerned, I let you go--

You didn't return until a week later.

I said "Hi," and you responded with an intoxicated breath, a whip to my face.

You started coughing again.

Didn't I tell you to stop?

And you did stop, but only when you told me that I should just step on our bed, like I always do...

Laying there until further notice, by you.

By you, and you alone.

Hun, when was your last dream of me? Or, was that only while you lied awake?

Thinking of all the things you can do to me once night fell.

And I let you.

I can't help but dream of you then, during the very same night.

Even when your shadow is against mine.

The only thing entering my mind is how many times I have to do this until you're satisfied.

You offer yourself to me, but in which way do you do so, hun?

I don't miss you.

Especially when your shadow's against mine.

I'm choking, can't you tell?--

It hurts.

But you never let me plead more than twice.

By then, you've silenced me with your own hands--

And your heart is beating fast.

I can feel it.

It's not as quick as mine.

And I know you felt that too.

During those times where you've asked me how much you love me, my head in front of your scent...

22 hours left in the day.

Another 4 or so until you leave, frightened by dawn.

But you return to me at night, sometimes even while I'm asleep in our room.

Shrugged me awake with that same quake you always love me to.

I don't enjoy that.

I never do.''