Cold Candle

From a very, very long time ago.

She blew out the flame, and walked out the door.
The candle laying cold, and silently-
in this house it wont be lit anymore.
And this is the place I rest quietly.

The wax has melted, and no wick remains.
The house is vacant, and no light shines in.
Memories of the soft glow bring no pain-
no spark, no flame, nowhere to re-begin.

Dismissing her lies, setting aside blame,
I begin to notice a different light.
Softly, and gently grows another flame,
bright at the end of this tunnel of night.

She blew out the flame and walked out the door-
I no longer care, or grieve anymore.