Burn time

Even when I am unlit, I promise patient light.

Strike me—

I steadily shine for everyone

I brighten rooms.

I soften corners.

I make myself useful.

The flame flickers higher

the harder I try.

A melt pool forms at my feet

like a quiet surrender,

warm and easy to ignore.

I tell myself,

this is what shining feels like.

But the more I glow,

the deeper I sink—

melting middle

walls weakening inward.

The tunneling begins.

I burn.

I forget the rest of myself.

The room is now radiant

and they are warm,

yet I drown in my own light.

There is always a burn time

and still,

I lean into the living flame.