This wax mishapen thing

'Twas but an hour,

the brighest hour,

the simplest,

livliest

moment.

Out like a flame,

Out was my security,

out was my thirst

for life.

And I hated you

for banishing the flame.

oh I hated you.

Your disinterest,

your nonchalance.

How I loathed your smile;

your moving fingers.

How bitter it felt upon my eyes

to greet you,

in the darkness,

of this new time.

I hate your shilouette,

I hate your breathe,

that snuffed out

this simple flame.

Can you not stand a candle?

Can you not let it burn until

it is but a blackened wicker?

Don't you know,

not to play with fire.

Bright,

lively,

simple fire.

How dare your cowardice

allow you to look away,

at the wax mishapen thing,

that is now myself.

Tell me how hard it is to simply watch a candle burn,

to allow time to tick,

to bask in the pain you claimed to feel,

with this candle?

How can I not hate you?

Why can't I hate you..

The anger gives birth to a black breath of darkness.

It dances in my eyes.

So unlike a flame,

cold,

wrenched,

writhing,

behind these eyes of mine.

And don't you hate to meet them?

recoil at your selfish deed,

stand appauled,

unbelieving,

maybe even disgusted

at this blistered waxen

half-used skin that was me.