trick candles

I’ve been dripping bright red ink
onto my wall-dust clothes
breathing in the peeling paint chips
that coat the prison of my mind
labyrinthine pathways
with locked doors
and trick candles that won’t blow out
though I’ve lost my breath from trying

My lungs are an ocean
filled with the tears of unrequited love
a hit and run victim of the heart
though I alchemised my veins years ago
in the hope they’d stop bleeding
for the frivolous hopes
of an invisible girl

Pity parties are the loneliest events
to nurse the healed bruises
that wrapped their way around my wrists
and across my penitent cheeks
from where you marked me with all your love

So I’ve been dripping bright red ink
onto my wall-dust clothes
moulding keys from clay and memories
not really believing there is a way out
of these tormented  recollections
where love was never unconditional
for a girl like me

© Indie Adams 2014