I'm not sure of myself anymore.
Like the flicker of a dying flame
I feel as though I'm just going through the motions, living in the moment,
nothing ever moves forward,
just as light is bound to be extinguished by an unexpected breeze,
or a hushed whisper
or a small hiss
the candle disintegrates into a pool of wax
and it remains
it stills; static electric
dances on the surface of my skin as it brushes against the cold metal
it burns bright and strong.
the hairs on our arms straighten as we graze elbows
and re-ignites
the light in listless souls