Day 8: candle-wax

sometimes i sip on candle-wax late enough at night
and wonder what kissing you might feel like
would it burn my tongue and leave an untraceable taste?
would it break me and yet still be warm enough to feel welcoming
would it taste like a mistake or just misplaced?

there are broken shards of old mirrors laced in my skin
and i've been wondering if you can see yourself in them
is that why you keep the phone line untangled enough to speak through
why i only smile half as honest when you are absent
and i cant seem to forget the same things i cant seem to regret

there is something desirable about the scent of distance
the taste of never agains
the beauty in impossibility
the truth in wanting what one cant have
there is something beautiful about pain
and i just want to be beautiful again
there is something so beautiful about pain
and i just want to be beautiful again
even if
that means
im
still
broken.