Alice and The Candle

I take Alice to the church.
She is my only friend.

Although I only hear her in my head.
And I only speak to her in my dreams.

The red lady pays ten pence for a candle and kneels.
A small price to pay for a big guarantee.

I keep my pennies in my purse.

The man in the hat chases up the aisle saying
I love you so much.

This is why I rarely leave the house.

When they have gone Alice rests her hand on my head.
She lets me cry a pool of tears and we float in it together.
The salt eating into the holes in our skin.
Quelling the fire.
Like kisses.

We drift in the water until the red lady’s candle burns out.
Then all I can feel is the wooden seat.
The cold in my breath.
The cold inside no blanket can warm.

For a moment the clock ticks and I hear voices outside.
I look around me.

Scared.

Alice is so small she can be blown away like a pencil shaving.

I often wonder if she is there at all.