Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Candles

Loved by poets,
feared by hotels
Everywhere.

I'm drawn to them,
the soft contrast
of jagged shadows

shivering on walls,
lives at the mercy
of any passing breeze,

themselves the candle's
negative, light without
light without lips,

leaving me to interpret
its gestures and demise,
possibly with a pen. 

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