The Unlit Candle(Old Familiar Feelings)

How sad, the unlit candle on the table;
appearing to stand proud, rigid, and erect from afar,
though,
a closer look reveals a much sober truth,

Frayed and tousled;
the wick hunches over, brought down by lonesome exhaust.

Unfulfilled wishes, dreams, and romance.

Yearning to fill the room with the sweet redolence of lilac,
lavender, vanilla, honeysuckle, and cinnamon.

Unable to illuminate lovers in the dark, unable to celebrate,
unable to mourn,
the unlit candle possesses naught,
but the malodorous stench of apathy.

Yes, I do suspect that the spirits of the dead mourn the unlit candle,
just as the lighted candle mourns those bodies of the dead.

Yes that unlit candle stands as a testament,
a testament to the power of the tempest
a testament to the power of the breath of man.

A queue of restless thoughts push their way through the gates of my consciousness.
The cognitive cacophony proceeds to play without a maestro.

I light a cigarette.

Wilted flowers, neglected, a funerary vase in the corner of the room;
nature's fading beauty, tragic product of time.

Snuffed cigarette still burns in the ashtray.
Fleeting smoke of desire clouds my vision,
forcing tears to well in my eyes, the desire evaporates from sight,
leaving mylungs, throat, and chest
soiled with the rheum and residue of regret.
Mucus builds, constricting airwaves,
I simply clear my throat and swallow,
too numb to be disgusted,
too tired
to get up and grab a tissue.

poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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