Ornamental

Your mother gifted me a candle in a gold jar.

The wax smells like soap that I cannot afford.

A warm glow flickers through the marble glass when lit.

A soft, steady flame.

Such a lovely gift from a woman rife with pain.

Were you talking to me or were you talking to her that night?

When the scorch of my words ignited your flight.

When you cried that I do not understand.

What do I not understand, my love?

My tongue made you seethe.

Your ice filled my lungs until I could not breathe.

Show me your heavy, hollow gut.

Tell me how those who were meant to care gave you cuts.

I am familiar with isolation.

Let me hold you, my love.

I wish you stayed. Kindled our fire along with me.

Tried to nurture you with heat, but my feelings run deep.

Thus, my embrace turned to a smoldering blaze.

I didn’t mean to scorch you. Don’t you see?

My heart had to flare so it wouldn’t freeze.

The echoes in our heads, however, disagreed.

Two voices I did not recognize. Children fighting to be seen.

I repent what I did in the past.

Torched what I loved, as I did not believe it would last.

Now I’m praying to a god up above.

Begging and feigning belief, just to feel your love.

Our spark froze over, my chest burned brighter.

Tried to warm you up and lost control of the fire.

Scorched and scared, you took solace in your cave.

Leaving me with hot coals. I touch them to reignite the pain.

They say the cure for heartbreak is time.

Yet, I scald myself every day, branding you into my mind.

I doubt they have hearts that blaze for ghosts.

The singe of reminiscing brings me comfort.

The sear of rumination incinerates it.

My mind is an inferno.

Yet, to cauterize would be to let go.

I read what you wrote. Saw a flicker of hope.

So, I’ll roast and wait for when you tire of the cold.