Fading

I am a burnt out candle

with a bare wick

wax melted

all around.

My shoes are worn

from walking,

soles rubbed to

rubbery black slivers.

I am 

an old pen

running out of ink,

scribbling blankly.

Searching for that

lovely music,

calling with cracked lips and a broken

voice, though

soon I will forget

how to sing.