real candles & burning talk

This is for real people.

Not the bite-your-tongue-til-it-bleeds kind of people,

who dress everything in smiles

and nicknames

and dry conversations that still have last year's sorrow in the sentences.

This isn't for the people who put mourning on mute,

pouring glitter on their problems

and finding a way around bad ideas

and bad opinions.

This isn't for you.

This is for real people.

Raw-skinned people with plummeting heart rates and sore joints.

Curse-words and closed-deals kind of people.

This is for your people who look straight in the eyes to see how hearts work.

This is for your love-lost and love-found people,

with their brains scratched on the chalkboard

and broken nails on the floor.

This is for the public bathrooms,

a list of tear-stained confessions,

and the people who kicked back.

This is for the compliments that turned into strangers,

and the strangers that payed up with compliments.

And this is for you, and you, and it's not for you because 

you hide all the raw behind a stubborn pair of eyes.

This is for all you bright eyes,
not you cold-eyed people,

keeping your agonies off this page 

to keep your smiles from looking dimmer.

You used LOVE more than TRUTH

but love is truth,

and truth is,

you don't love like real people do.

You're not real.

You're not real.

You're a face and hands and you think with your eyes

but you're too afraid of losing that glow.

Of losing your glow.

You're not real.

You're not real.

You're a charged bulb in a plastic candle,

but the world wants the real thing.

You're

too afraid of using yourself

and losing yourself in the flame.

But fire is warmer than the lamp will ever be.

So take your batteries out,

and let your wicker burn.

At least you will have been 

worth something

in the end.