The last candle
Close to him there is wind brewing, it's cathartic it's inevitable it's taking a toll on him His heart's throbbing, the serene picture he thought he painted has been smudged, withered. Just like his despair there is a growing puddle of wax from the slow melt of the candles, spread across the mantle of fireplace. His ethics, morality made him believe a happy soulful life is his prerogative, his perpetual belief in virtuousness led him to disappointment. There is faint creaking melody from the rocker, there he lies gazing at the wax sticks burning dancing upon his whimsical nature. The room was brimming with the smell of fumes of his defeat. The candles were slowly kissing the mantle melting into the void that is his heart. His notions of romanticism, endearment were subjected to true test of time. Six he counted a while ago, one is spearheaded, two of them inching towards the pending doom. One is slowly being peeled revealing the wick, his soul. And the other two ar...