when you loved me

i was just some
fleeting exercise
where you came by
once a month
and I would hope
you frequented me
more often

you held my life
in the flicker of lit wiks
and candles that
burn through the house
i'm just another
wax filled escape.
you claimed it was
romance,
but all I felt was
another cliche'

candles burn
and fire smokes
our home
where we last stayed.
the aftershock still
shakes
these veins.