I see it if I close my eyes.

Some three years past and by,

A man I barely recognize

Left a small flame here to die.

I found it lit, but little more.

A candle waxing still.

But light enough to find the sore,

The hole it used to fill.

It isn’t mine and yet I know

Without it, I can’t see.

What would he say if he could speak?

Would he pass this fire to me?

This light was once a part of me, a lost and phantom limb.

This time I won’t just let it go. I can’t end up like him.

Published by Jacob Marsh

My name is Jacob Marsh. I am an emerging writer currently swimming around in the Puget Sound looking for fresh fish and even fresher ideas.

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