my body is a matchbox
full to the brim of kindling
posing as a lit match
flames stuck to me, so attached

i wore the flame
but the flame also wore me
wore me down
until my body became a ghost town

i’d flicker and light up
whenever anyone needed me to
but then fall apart so quickly
in the fingertips of you

keep going for more
there are hundreds to use, my dear
but keep an eye on the matchbox
because when it is empty,
keep the ash as a souvenir