Time ebbs and flows as if it has become
liquid, oozing out of days, drowning the nights. My mind is plagued by
answer-less questions. I shut my phone off; try to quieten the world I writhe
within, the world I've left in shards.
Somewhere inside of me, that tiny flame burns. Quietly melting the wax which simultaneously feeds and suffocates it. Storm winds gust around it, the flame flickers and spits, smoke masking its light.
The smoke clears and a tear of wax runs down the side of the candle. The flame flickers.
It can breathe.
Somewhere inside of me, that tiny flame burns. Quietly melting the wax which simultaneously feeds and suffocates it. Storm winds gust around it, the flame flickers and spits, smoke masking its light.
The smoke clears and a tear of wax runs down the side of the candle. The flame flickers.
It can breathe.
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