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My Gothic Candle Flame

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That teardrop shape of my light!

A glow with many shadows cast.

The vaulted heavens above

catch the long thread of smoke

rising when my candle flame’s pinched.

My smoke pools and condenses

as my blackened wick cools.

The teary streams of wax dry

and my tears are visible to all.

And up into the heavens I rise!

Up into that paradise I coexist

as smoke born from a teardrop flame!

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