The Longing That Never Returns

There are longings that never return, they merely learn how to remain. They sit at the table with me and drink from the same silence we once called love. A candle’s tears — made of burning wax — run down my face as though the night itself had learnt how to melt. I light another flame to illuminate what we lost, but the light only reveals the empty place where I still wait for you. There are names that are never forgotten; they merely grow old upon the tongue. There are embraces that never end, because they never found the courage to say goodbye. And I remain here, my heart becoming the wick, my soul becoming wax, slowly burning for a longing that will never return. Perhaps that is love’s punishment: not dying when everything ends, but continuing to burn when there is no one left to save us from the flame.