NaPoWriMo 17 (disaster)

after year two,
you proclaimed it a disaster.
lit a new candle like you expected
it to be a baptism.

wax melted as the candle
burned down,
spilling and drying up.
disaster, again,
and extinguished the flame.

girl dressed in ragged white,
halo of hair obscuring features;
disaster, you called her.
(no time to deal with
a ghost, you said)
– and she tore down
the ceiling.

glass and brick
glittered, broken
on the floor.
diamond and granite collided
together in
ghostly rage:
disaster.

her – the ghost –
tore up infinity,
the eternity you
promised.

(watch her now,
destroying all you
worked for)

watch her crush all her
disasters
and create one anew.
just for you.

disaster indeed.