Another Voice In the Room


Tea lights in the summer
to celebrate
my initiation
in your world.
I could burn myself
if I think the absence of wax
is the end of ignition.
But I watched you
watch the flame
and allow it
to blur your eyes,
never daring to blow them out.
You want someone
to listen to your stories
as they unfold,
so they don’t seem like fables
about lines of flames,
about shattered mirrors,
about burning yourself,
about dodging fireballs,
about being stung.
I’ve had flames;
I want to be your mirror;
I’ve been burned by the anonymous;
I’ve thrown fireballs,
and I’ve stung you.
Now I just want to be
another voice in the room.



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