When Wax Hardens

The candle tipped,

and slow waves of wax spilled,

cold and brittle now,

sharp little islands breaking free.

I watch the hardening, the slow crack,

the way it forgets to hold,

once molten, now fragile,

like promises left too long in the cold.

Paraffin freezes the moment,

catches it before it slips away,

but the edges break off,

jagged as regret.

Some things don’t last.

They just freeze,

and then they shatter.