Candles
red melting candles
like my heart
Resting in a pool of death
in the dark.
I flirt with the lady
who forgets my name.
She giggles at me, and wants my attention, like fame.
I keep my thoughts hidden from her
and then
they spew out
all over the page.
I write quickly, with ambition
and forget the world
I see, only me
but I prefer to write slowly,
like the words don’t matter
like I am empty
like I am a field, that hasn’t been walked in
for centuries
and my thoughts creep onto the page.
Intellectual Shaman 
It’s these, moments that, we allow our thoughts to, exit our minds, that we are, truly, free. Nobody can, understand us, we are the only ones, with the, ability, to, know our own, selves.
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Thanks for your thoughts and your deep wisdom, taurusingemini!!! I always appreciate your comments!
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This one is wonderful. Powerful ending.
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Thanks Julie!!!
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it feels like walking down a corridor with a ceiling getting lower and lower, fascinating impresssion 🙂
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Yes. I’m glad that you enjoyed the poem, Emma!
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