Melted, reshaped, reborn, Into a thousand different colors and scents. Molded to your perfection,
Into your dreams of the summer, Of an enchanted forest, A day lost at sea, A thousand different outcomes, And a thousand different memories.
Melt me, shape me, throw in the dye and a pinch of lavender perfume
Paint a picture of a scenery I have no recollection of; Brand it onto my fragile glass skin.
Light the match. Burn the wick. Watch as everything you molded me into melts away.
You enjoy the fruits of your labor;
I am nothing but ashes and dust at the bottom of the candelabra.