Candle

A candle
has burned black
down to a nub
and vomited wax
all over my desk.

I look at the placental remains
and I wonder

If I had enough warmth
in my breath
If I had enough skill
in my hands
If I had a new wick
in my pocket

Could I pry up the wax
and mold and roll
and repair the path of flame?

Funny, it’s always the easier
the unopposed choice
to buy a new candle
to burn down again.

Finality.

Well, April and I have broken up, amicably. I was feeling used and she says she was feeling like she was obliged to me. I don’t think we’ll continue to room together, as I don’t feel I could handle it, and I think she only wants to room with me for the cable, smaller rent bill, internet and access to Newton. Heck with that. Even though I would enjoy having the cost break in rent and food, I don’t think I would deal well with a friend I used to have sex with living under my roof and sharing my bed (just to sleep in). Man. Sakes.