Nostalgia

In the cold winter swept night on a September’s eve,

she lay on the floor watching a single candle flicker.

It was a grand symbol of her life.

She had always been alone

whether she had realized it or not,

a single flame burning bright

in the vastness of the universe.

The howl of emptiness in her body

racked her day in and day out.

It made her cry and quietly

questioning if things were going to be anything more than they are now.

She touched the edge of the candle with her pale fingertips

and traced it, thinking about how many times

she had wished that someone would hear her crying.

No one ever came.

She turned onto her back and stared at the paint peeling on the ceiling.

It’s once purple edges curled,

fraying in impossible ways

like tendrils of seaweed caught adrift in an ocean tide.

The candle made shadows on the wall seem like dancers.

They spun around in time to their silent tune.

She sighed and let her eyes flutter shut,

allowing the images of her past flash in her mind

like a short film strained with repetition.