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
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