After the Flame

Blackened edges curl on cracked plaster,

a smell of smoke still hanging faster

than the stairwell’s breath can clear,

a ghostly trace, a clawing fear.

The candle toppled, quick to rage,

a flicker caught in a paper cage.

Panic clawed harder than the heat,

inside my chest, a frantic beat.

Scorch marks linger like a bruise,

a scarred reminder I can’t refuse.

The flame was small, but it roared inside,

where memories burn and won’t subside.