Candle and Coal

Candle and Coal

Into blackness these souls drift

you see them and they are so real

you think you can save them but it is impossible

that’s final.

Resonating only with pain and sorrow; it won’t continue.

Our love was a bold statement

it’s now seemingly burning down into a stub like a candle stuck on a table that has only ever been scratched and graffitied on.
Becoming nothingness, meaninglessness.

It is subtle and it creeps and it lets you know it’s there and it’s going to wear you down till you’re fresh again and nothing about it is sudden except the initial shock, accept the initial shock, every day because the shock wears down and eventually you are left with the numbness.

As you know and feel your heart it is continuously colluding with the souls that are drifting, that have fled, that have moved into darkness.

And you are left with your little soul that thrived off the love of a few big souls but now has no fuel to burn its flame and you cry out for something to burn but you are left with a little piece of coal and no hope.

You want to leave as well, and your soul is screaming to drift into the blackness, it has already moved so far over there that you haven’t one really, and it is waiting for you to make that final move, to embrace the new home of its friends.

Another candle is brought just before your candle was to burn out and leave a scorch mark on your derelict table.
You did not make it in time and foolishly you let it burn out.
You curse yourself and curse the fact that this love is now only a mark that will be there always to remind you of how you lost it.

Your piece of coal isn’t alight anymore and you dig through the ashes to find something hot, something real, because you need something to light your new candle with, you burn your hands and search deep amongst the ash and cinder and find another piece of black coal with speckles of red and you reach for the candle and press it against the red, you are patient and blow, hard, and desperately.

The candle catches alight and you melt its base to the wretched table that mocks your mistakes.

You melt the candles’ base right next to the old scorch mark.

An old friend goes out and fells a tree for your sake,
Another friend chops it up.
A new friend gathers kindling and dried leaves and builds it above your little black coal.

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