“Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.” –Anne Frank

I used to light a candle for each of my dead friends,
but now I think it would set my house on fire.

Even some who are still breathing have died long ago,
sold their souls to the white devil to escape the dark.

Some make homes in the unending night of addiction.
You can’t pull someone out of a metaphor.

You can’t resurrect somebody’s soul
whose body is filled with poison.

I can’t escape this heroin graveyard.
I can’t bring anybody back.

This is not the first time I’ve written this poem
about being surrounded by all of these ghosts.

This is not the last time I will write this poem.
I do not want to light any more candles.