Poetry Feature: nothing hurts more than a candle loving the sun by Jess Roses

soft wax sharp wick, eterna-lit
     my crayon melt candle rainbow
          my craving metal cage ache
                my great mess on the floor of the bedroom

what can i say, noah opened the closet door and 40 days and 40 nights of tears flowed out of me all at once. is this the gods, finally, speaking to me? is the pain big enough yet, for the gods to see it? how much hot air can fill this balloon before it bursts and all my bubbles with it: compartmentalization in the fragile iridescences that abound around me like the pearl glow of the moon on an almost cloudy night. please, the thin layer of soap film is all that holds me, i couldn’t take

the bursting
and still be her. no one is ready for it.
everything matters.

i wish you could watch me become. i hope you hear what i would say, if i could
say it, i hope it faces the fear in you;
through the radio waves
and the stories i tell, the messages
in the bottle

are true
and so often,
they are for



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