The stormy night
The lights are out
Enjoying the candle light
Alone in my flat
Watching the rain torrent
Heavy Sound of water
Touching the ground
And a hot cup of tea
Makes a perfect mood
to leave my thoughts behind
and write something
with pen and paper
in yellow light

A Valentine's Card dressed
With Steve Buscemi's face,
photoshopped onto a child,
disturbing and hilarious,
tattooed on the inside
with once-true truths.
Flammable.

A severed chunk of
35 mm film,
cut in a rhombus,
or trapeze or whatever,
highly flammable.

A piece of cloth
I brought with me,
And the part of
the belt I had to cut
off so it would fit
my skinny ***.
Flammable, slightly.

A dead and dried up leaf,
Impaled on the bulletin board,
From a tree I don't even know what,
That sometimes crinkles with the wind,
If she were alive still,
She would comment on the
Cold thumbtack spear
In her abdomen, and
Sniff regrets at the sweet,
Artificial Vanilla waves below.

I keep my wall of
flammable memories
Above a lit candle,
Every day, I wish the flames
Would reach a little higher, but
Every day, the wax sinks,
low, low, lower still.

To sleep with the window open
and with the door unlocked
the flame draws me away from my body
to go on forage in the forest light.

two rather large glasses down,
one heart crumbled the other thriving.
Leave the shattered pieces on the ground
find the light
find the happiness and the warmth
that linger within
after layer after layer of singed love.
a fire that was lit and never put out
burned me to my core
leaving no light
no happiness within
no warmth for me to bathe and bask in.

We’ll light the wedding candle
Each year upon this night.
Remembering why as years speed by
We first stood to make this light.

Not for a love that’s ever true
Or a smile that ever cheers.
Not for the sick or crummy days
Or to share and conquer fears.

It’s for the days we forget to love
and when aggravations start to weigh.
It’s for the times we’ve both ******* up
But have chosen to love again a new way.

The candle will burn and the wax melt.
Someday, the wick will sputter and gutter out.
But it’s just a reminder and can be replaced
As long as we remember what it’s all about.

My love is innocent she takes burning candle to wind
She never ever cares that this will bring love to an end
Keeping her charms and graces she is ready to rescind
But she is in her style makes never ever to go to bend

She is not aware of idiosyncrasies of life in its entirety
She is still not aware that what whirlwind she can bring
Without her veil she sparingly spreads beauty in the city
She doesn't know she is not a flower but blooming spring

Flowers of her petals are so soft and so sweet to celebrate
Her fragrance and essence takes my life to eternal height
She is so sweet so gorgeous so beautiful so charming ,great
Her green eyes make to take dip and to go on eternal flight

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

They say I'm beautiful
And they, watch me with sparkling eyes.

Truth is--
I'm but the burnt out wick of a candle tossed away.