The flicker is only so far from my browning fingertips. It is a flicker that I've come to adore as one would adore an expensive ring or necklace. By candlelight I can see my sorrows on the page more clearly, I can see what I've done wrong, and the lies I've told. But by candlelight I see something more precious than the torments of my prideful soul. The stories that you've whispered in my ear. In the dark. Those stories cut me deep within and fog my mind that only a candlelight can light. How bright it lights when you lend me your murmers and your agony, and how it quinches the sadistic thirst my heart holds for you. By candlelight, I might, ask for you.