The red-scented candle

In my room there’s a glass jar, 

A red ribbon tied around the rim. 

In that jar I burn scented candles 

The wax scarlet, crimson and vermilion 

Mixed scents of strawberry and raspberry. 

I’m afraid of fire though, 

So, to light the wick, I roll a piece of 

Paper and use that to light it. 

So the heat of the flame can’t touch my skin. 

So the heat can’t turn to burn. 

The scent settles the abyss of my mind 

Calms in the way a mother can– 

Like a soothing hug. It enwraps me, 

Leaving a softness in its wake, 

Drifting me away to sleep. 

Danger is the next thing to envelop. 

As that pleasant scent starts to smell strange,

Flames slivering down; 

From their glass containment 

Towards my face and hair. 

I can barely feel the burn.