the wick

our love was like the Yankee candle wick
burning slowly, small flame, particles of black smoke;
melting the wax,
creating a puddle of hot liquid,
reminding me of the way your juices saturate my skin,
burning me slightly, but not enough for me to pull away,
enticing me for more,
and as it drips, cooling down,
and begins to harden,
waiting for you to peel it off,
revealing a rebirth of us;
cleansed and smooth as if the rough patches and wrinkles
of the past no longer existed in this new environment.
The candle wick burns, slowly, as I’ll always yearn for you.

Published by

jonathandeanrichie

Currently living in Vietnam, teaching English, fixing the world's problems.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s