My Pink Candle

They told me she was Rose scented,

She came flower molded

She sat on my nightstand for four years

Loving whoever peers.

 

I lit her last night

It might have been out of spite

I felt the twinge of guilt

The flame had me split

 

She smelt of Musty Rose

Guess the years had its toll

She turned into mush

She seemed in quite a rush.

 

Destiny they call it?

Only the lucky ever realize it

Did she?

 

Willingly get consumed by her heat

My nightstand feels empty

I can sense her slightly

The riptide isn’t as strong as expected

I guess she prevented it.

 

Red Birdiee