No More

There is no more wax. No more wick.

That candle burned out two years ago and you don't get to try to relight it.

No use for matches or lighters or forest fires.

That candle is staying out.

That book stays closed.

Those pages will never be illuminated again.

Chapter after chapter and I'm done reading about us.

No more secret codes or blank pages of stifled communication.

I don't feel the need to write again in that book.

No prologue or desire for a sequel.

That novel will stay closed on my shelf.

I will look to it on rainy days and smile

about a past that brought me here.