the only source of light is a candle
and it burns and burns until it doesn't
and then it's dark and i can't see
and i've lost that light and can't bring it back
because the wick is lost and the wax is melted
and i'm alone in the dark
so knowing the inevitability
of this situation,
i contemplate whether or not
i should just let the candle burn out now
because maybe ending it all now
would rid the pain of knowing what's to come.
of knowing that this is all i'll ever know
until i don't
YOU ARE READING
quarter to dawn {poetry}
Puisia collection of poems. you ask me why i like art and i tell you that the water colours bleed prettier than my wrists
