Match – a poem

Me and the match
were a match made in heaven.

I don’t remember if it was warm
the first time I decided to strike it.
Too starstruck I was,
by its light,
its subtle flaming crackle,
its faint artificial fragrance–
my mouth dry in the face of danger
close enough to touch.

Better to be burned,
I thought,
than remain dull, sandy, boring.
This was much more interesting.
I could see it, hear it, smell it, taste it.
But still I panicked and snuffed the flame
before we got anywhere real.

The next time, I stared a little longer.
Too long.
I panicked
again,
discarded wind for water,
and doused it.

I shouldn’t have given it a second chance,
me and my match,
but at least we won’t get a third.
The light never warmed me anyway.


For whatever reason, I’m really into poetry these days.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s