Candles – A.P. Christopher (constant Variable)

The candles are burning
There one for her name
There’s one to remind me
The day that she came

Was a day rather normal
Until it was not
Like a candle that’s burning
But no longer hot

There’s one for her echo
And one for her voice
There’s one I keep trying
To light as if choice

Was enough to ignite it
Or choose how it burns
Or control what is missing
And, so, what returns

The candles are burning
There’s one for her lips
There’s one to remind me
How everything slips

And that everything perfect
Is perfect until
It just isn’t and then it’s
Just destined to fail

There’s one candle burning
That seems so bereft
It burns like it did
On the day that she left

And there’s one burning barely
The one for her eyes
Though the one for her heart
Never changes in size

The candles are burning
I swear that they are
There’s one for each finger
And two – every scar

More than one for her laughter
I barely recall
When I last even heard it
Or did I at all?

There’s one for tomorrow
And one for today
There’s one I would light
If I knew what to say

But there’s more and there’s many
Too many to name
But they’re dead and they’re dying
As much as I’m trying
The truth is they won’t hold a flame

for more from this author, please click the following link: https://constantvariablesite.wordpress.com/

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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