A thought supposed constant extinguished by time.
The wick black and no longer exposed to oxygen.
No longer able to breathe.
The coffin containing imaginings of what could be
reluctantly closed and buried.
A wooden edge still creeping out from beneath dark soil
hinting at hope
begging to be grasped.
A wail choked by years of useless turmoil
never to be answered.
I sniffed after I read snuffed :s