i don't want magic if it's tragic
but here's another metaphor for you
i am the little match girl
and you are my every delusion
i don't like the story
but i like the way you sound over the phone
and i like to remember you in the dark
without the light to highlight the pain
just playlist full of sad songs all over again
cliche
but i want to write about our conversation
about the way you laughed
about when we stayed
before the fire unlit, before the final match burnt
remember all the things you said to me?
i stop searching where they went long time ago
because they're just reminder of how mundane you turn things into
i ran out of matches and i don't know what to do