visions

matchbox

[a/n: fucking creepy poem jesus where did this come from]

i took the matchbox between two

slender fingers, and t u r n e d

it around in my hand. it seemed

to fit there like it was meant to be.

and it seemed like love.

and she? she fit my hand like she

was meant to be. but that c o u l d n ' t

be, because the matchbox was

meant to be. something was wrong...

or was it right?

i took the matchbox between two

slender fingers, and i p u l l e d

out a match. it traced loving designs

on my skin and lovelier designs on

the rough brown strip.

the light, it was golden, dancing

and flickering and s p a r k i n g

and i smiled at she, for she didn't

know that my one and only true love

was my matchbox.

she wasn't expecting the golden

lights to take her by fire, s m o k y

ashy dirty rising flames curling

around she's body and killing she,

instantly burnt.

maybe this isn't a love ballad,

not one of a love that's m e a n t

to be, but it's one of how my one and

only true love met my other sweet love,

my little she.