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Clock and Candle

clock-and-candle

This morning, the entire neighborhood‘s power went out at 1:12 am.

I know this because I was awake.

I was awake, and I was thinking about you.

I was awake and thinking about wanting to write something poetic about the power going out.

Something about being unable to find the light even though it was just a two minute drive away.

Or about light always being within reach, but being unwilling to go on the search to find it.

Write about being too comfortable alone in darkness to even light a candle.

Maybe the pain of blowing out a candle; watching the smoke fade away.

Maybe something about watching you fade away.

Maybe something about me not realizing you were fading away.

Something about the symptoms being right in front of me, and still not realizing you were fading away.

You know, something about you literally telling me you were fading away, and still not realizing you were fading away.

Maybe relate it to the way smoke lingers like a plus one guest at a party it didn’t even want to attend.

Or possibly about the light never coming back on.

I could give attention to the moonlight for being the only company that makes me feel a little less alone.

Or write about not blowing out the candle, and just letting it burn; a breath of grief/relief towards letting it shine until the wick runs out of time.

There is always taking the note of getting tired of burning; I could always oppose it with light.

Put every word into a book called “him”.

The power turned back on at 2:22 am.

I know because I was awake.

I know because I was awake, and still thinking about you.

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