The Wax of The Candle

I stare at the candle,
Until the picture burns into my mind,
I smile at the blue and yellow flame,
It's one of a kind.

I inch my finger closer,
Just above the flame,
I dip my finger in,
And feel the rising shame.

I promised I'd never do it again,
That I'd never burn,
My skin begins to turn red and crack,
As the familiar blister returns.

I dip in another finger,
And feel the flame working on my skin,
The warmth seems to be growing,
As I think of him.

I smile as my skin burns,
And turns a crimson-red,
I struggle against all the shameful thoughts,
That are going through my head.

I dip in the next finger,
And watch the flame grow higher,
I smile as my finger burns,
In the growing fire.

The flame grows higher,
With immense speed,
I think of why I do this;
It has become one of my most important needs.

My skin begins to prickle,
As I dip one last finger in,
I smile, as the pain becomes the flame,
It becomes HIM.

The finger represents you,
And the flame represents my pain,
The wax of the candle represents me,
Slowly melting away.

Dedicated to K