I was a candle before you burnt me
I smelled of pine
Evidence a whole forest was found in my wick
A whole country in my wax
I was a window without a frame
That you could look out upon
Stare and wonder and get drunk off the stars
I was a closet with no clothes
A poor hiding spot for a child
A reminder of needs and wants
And how those two never aligned
I was a shoreline
That met an ocean
That met a river
That met another shoreline
I was a book with no pages
Just the cover
Waiting to be filled
Hoping I’d hold a story of love rather than heartache
Because those stories are better to tell anyways
I was an unlabeled bottle
With liquid frothing back and forth
A green, then a yellow, then a blue
All it took was the right light and angle
I was the hard work in finding both
Then I met you and I was described as all of these things and then some
And you forgot that I was human
And that meant I was more than what they and you and anyone called me
For I was you too
And you were me
And both of us were afraid of those candles and those closets and looking out at a window without its skeleton to hold it
For what is a candle if it does not burn
A closet if there are no clothes
And a window if there is no frame
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