This candle is ALTOGETHER dastard-handed
by many of its whispering-flamed accords – tantalised to so presumtuously disguise
a life utmost underprioritised by those who stood and swore to care
For she meant everything to only ever truly herself,
a distanced and shamed head – full of sugarbeet bright red hair, where thoughts meander and plummet out of happy touch again again
and a derelict, extinguished degree of utter disgain
And, yet, still…
sitting, unable to get the balance JUST right – drinking one sip per agonised w(h)ining time – when nobody took to cherish her rather left-of-centre attitude and this bottle solely exists to permit her something as opposed to drained and dredged everything
SWARMED no less, but shit was she sexy