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Click hereOur love was like a candle as it burned—
at first, an even steady flame that yearned
to consume the wick. There was no sputtered
nervousness about the warmth, no muttered
accusations, jealous looks. But it turned
wavering, drowned in long drips of wax, spurned
the needed trimming of the flame, which earned
it mere untended care. The flame guttered.
So love was like a candle and it burned,
and our thin hearts put out poor heat and churned
with anxiety and pain, as if worms
had planted larvae in our bones. Uttered
oaths we prayed, but speech was merely stuttered
ashy smoke. Our love flared out, and we learned
how love ends like a candle that's been burnt.
A love too hot ~ not to cool down. Another SET exquisite rendering.
My friend, I only realized that while I've been enjoying your poems, I haven't taken the time to publically declare how wonderful they are.
I declare they (and you) are most wonderful. I think your form poems are amazing...and that is a most unbiased comment.
Another 30/30 piece today ~
I like the metaphor, it works so well;
Reminds me of a candle with a wick too long ~
Not being trimmed, it falls onto the wax,
Wrecking even more, exposing still more wick and in its passion, all becomes undone.