Candlelit Fantasy

No words can describe what you do to me You inject in me some sort of venom-like sweetness Mind and body erase Making room for feeling and admiration On my side of thought, you merely despise me You leave me in melancholy wonder Melting me like a candle, I become so low And burn all the more! Because this wax in me is lathered in your substance Sometimes I wonder if you are made of venom at all Sometimes I bring myself to believe. . . That you are sweet. . . And you want me to enjoy it Why I suffer so profusely I cannot tell Why I allow myself to believe That I may love you Only toughens my doubt of a shell Perhaps I never loved you Or perhaps I do more and more everyday And the shell grows all the more fragile I am low as can be in this room This dreary, candlelit fantasy involving you I age in a young body Trapped in ancient pain Wrapped in insipid, typical emotion Bludgeoned with irrefutable doubt Your very few words burn me Melting me into nothing. . . But when I am finally blown out I have no choice but to harden Sometimes I return tall Other times I remain small I wonder which one you prefer