Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

candle ribbons

anxiety is the candle wick
still burning, but not quite a full flame –
not quite a spark to keep it standing
as a tall orange ribbon lighting up
the room in wobbling shadows –
it’s the sharp ember that
pricks your fingertip like a needle –
leaving it burned and
sensitive to the touch – it’s
the ash that still attempts
to try, yet not giving effort
all that much

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