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HOUSE OF WAX
I stand in my candle holder
With a wick upon my shoulder.
My place is by the window...
Listening to the wind blow.
Seasons come and go with pass...
Changing opposite the glass.
Sunrises through to sunsets...
This candle never forgets.
Pending, you are source of fire...
When you strike, you spark desire.
We are a match - you of your match
And I, the candle - what a catch.
We sit upon the window sill...
Waiting for the time until
We come together - in joined force
Throughout our combined intercourse.
Eventually, we are both able...
Finding place upon a table.
The time has come to lighten up
Within my candle holder's cup.
Following your matchbox striking,
To my wick - you take a liking.
Our fire is now burning bright...
Romance in its candlelight.
This, in turn, stands tall and straight.
Soaring to the sky, but wait...
As well as your flame being felt
In all my stance, I start to melt.
As I cry, I am not sad...
Sum of the time that we had.
As time passes, furthermore...
Melting and crying is in store.
It seems that we have reached the end
As we start to burn out, my friend.
Within volume of holding space,
We find our final resting place.
As our romance comes to cease,
You and I are both at peace.
Melts and cries come to relax
Of this, our newfound house of wax.
Copyright ©
Matthew Tripley
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