Candle Guts

When life will seem subpar,
it’s hard not to land on reasons
Those epiphanies, I find,
they come and they go.
I like to watch a candle spill its guts
It’s the only real reason I burn them,
and why I only burn taper candles
and only burn them in wine bottles
I like it when the wax guts cascade
So I never trim the wicks anymore,
I like to notice as the layers collect,
i want the flames to burn with soot,
i want wax melting so fast it bridges
When I burn candles, I want more,
i don’t want them to burn in peace,
i want agony, to acknowledge that,
to hear cracks, hear the smacking
of a collapsed bridge hitting the table
So I never trim the wicks anymore
Anything less is a dollar unfulfilled
Except a candle from a thrift store,
in which cases the guts shed best,
especially when it starts half dead,
especially when the candle is dirty.


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