A white candle I gently light and hold,

Its little flame is spirited and bright.

Its simple flicker distorts the shadows,

Unveiling dark things in its light.

-

Wax trickles down the candle, falling modestly,

Unashamed, unafraid, but ignorant of its short life.

It is lonely, but seldom alone,

Secretly dying to live as my wife.

-

It is much like you, beauteous Christine,

So pure, so fiery in all you are.

Your siren voice makes stars tremble in awe,

Maddening enough to drive men to war.

-

It ends me to think that one day, you'll die,

As I sadly see the candle flicker its last and fade.

Without you, hopeful candle, my only light,

There is nothing but darkness; all is decayed.

-

Christine, sweet Christine,

I hear your ghostly, entrancing laugh resound,

Reminding me now that I speak to myself.

You're a lovely, free flame; I'm beastly darkness bound.

-

Ah! My heart! Spurned too long by love,

Met without mercy too many lonely days.

My bitter tears shatter, breaking as brittle as ice,

And my eyes are lost ashes as sanity frays.

-

Oh, I hate this emptiness,

These gaunt echoes of love's prison.

Christine, fleeting Christine!

I am frigid in the world's derision.

-

I anxiously, madly desire you, tender light,

To flicker forever for me without fright,

To hold me captive until nothingness consumes us.

Please, help me make this music of the night.