Poems and Other Random Things

Dwindle

One

day I had

brought you a tall,

pink candle. You

accepted

it

but

refused to light it. Your reasoning was

that you simply did not want to. Months

passed and you finally lit it. I was full of

joy and excitement. The candle burned

bright and strong, like my love for you

and your love for me that you had, at

long last, reciprocated. Though it was

bright and strong, it burned slowly. It

looked like it could last forever. Both

of us were hoping for that. We both

wanted the candle to last until we

could move in and share its warmth.

But I could see it melting. I could see

the wax dripping down the sides,

landing sadly on the surface below.

More months went by and I saw how

the candle was getting shorter and

shorter with each passing day. I was

trying to convince you that we would

need to get another. "Darling, this

one will go out soon. We should get

another so the warmth stays". But

you refused. I don't know why. You

said the candle hurt you. It burned

too bright, too hot, too fast. I had

been burned once or twice as well

but I relied on the candle still. It

was my safe place. You said it had

hurt you too much to keep once it

had died. And eventually it did. The

flame died and fizzled out. The gift

was reduced to nothing more than

hard wax stuck to our table, just a

constant reminder of what it once

was and what we once were. But

now there is nothing left of our

candle and nothing left of us.