A thin stream of smoke rises from the match,
twisting towards the ceiling.
Relief rushes her head.
But her stomach continues to churn,
moving too fast to calm now.
The harsh burning smell
covers the lavender candle scent.
She succeeded, she tells herself,
But memory stings.
Leaving her old home did not stop the reminiscing.
The flame flickers.
The wick burns.
Images of the past invade her vision,old feelings fill her veins,she relives them,she relishes them,they
demand to be remembered.
It’s only when the purple candle wax pools
that the smell of lavender permeates the room,
chasing away the bitter burning.