The Candle That Waited Too Long

The Candle That Waited Too Long

I saw the candle burning in a room

where shadows refused to bend,

its wax melting into shapes I could not name,

its flame flickering with a voice I almost heard.

The air smelled of old rain, of quiet grief,

and the walls leaned in as if to listen,

while I traced the molten paths with my eyes,

wondering if it was me who was fading, or the room.

The flame danced on its own, skipping seconds,

counting secrets no one wanted to speak,

I reached, my hand trembling,

and the candle shivered like it had a heartbeat.

I wanted to hold it, to whisper my fears,

but it melted faster, dripping memories,

its smoke curling into faces I once knew,

faces I could not name, faces that knew me.

The flame died slowly, like a sigh,

leaving blackened wax and hollow echoes,

and I realized I had been waiting too long,

for something that had never waited for me.