Poetry series: flickers, florals and heartbeats

 

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It’s 10:42 pm and despite being beyond exhausted, I am at peace.

I am alone more often than I’d like, but I have the brightest, warmest love of all.

My hope is the flickering candle on the far side of the room.

At a distance but burning with reassuring intensity.

Oh, to love you, to be loved by you.

The greatest pleasure I know.

 

white petaled flower and pillar candle

white book on table

 

The warped matchstick

First flickering to life

an explosion of warm golden embers

held in my hand

travelling the length of the wood

a steady traverse

charring and burning

a strange new scent of sage

finally, the warped matchstick

wilting and blackening

till it droops eventually

the light has died out

as has the fire in my eyes

 

interior designer (1)

 

 

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