Candles flickering at even the smallest hint of a muttered breath.
What stories do candles have to tell?
What shadows have been cast upon their muted light?
Shadows of lovers, dancing and embracing until the soft flame burns down,
The wick now bent over and gone like a dandelion so suddenly blown into the breeze.
Only to be replaced and tossed aside without even the smallest hint of care;
The once homely smell of vanilla dies out and gives way to the scent of chloroform.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Mentally Insane
PoetryPoetry is the writing of our deepest, darkest, most inner thoughts. When speaking isn't enough and your voice falls upon deaf ears, writing is our only refuge. Join me and experience the workings of my mind in my collection of original poems. (Credi...
