String Theory

That is where the candle stood,
Flickering quietly on the wood.
And I was held, suspended in your thoughtbubbles,
A salve for you troubles.
Bodies stranded, divided in this space,
Bend like highways,
While others wait still, and stand apart
Waiting to take a sliver
Of your sliced up heart.

Old songs are sung,
Tales and words are strung.
All of them will,
Coalesce into an abstract other
While I grow blurrier, still.