Candlelight

I sit alone on unmade bed,
Curtains flung casually aside.
The flame moves, leaping, wild,
alive.
Flickers and threatens to leave.
The shadows on my four walls draw in,
They do not fear my meagre light on the windowsill.
Seven crows fly among the rafters,
sent high, bourne upon the small glow.
The murder circle, the first watching
over me
keeps me safe from safety.
I hold out my hand to hold,
bring it through the smoke
to settle in the flame
hoping just to feel.
I sit alone on unmade bed,
I sit alone and try not to love you.
I sit alone.

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