Pursuing ardent fervor
Lured toward peaceful obscurity
Beckoning.  
Outstretched.
Vulnerable
Freedom's abandon
Enticingly treacherous
Elusive assurance

A Procrustean woman's tale
in an orbit does tell that this snitch
here wasn't Montgomery whether sound must hitch
with Pythagoras
that seldom erupt in despair
now dire hands with guilty chest
yet volcanoes bleed in the air

Left on the side of the road
we couldn't do more than
walk underneath the bright lights
of the street in the autumn breeze
of late June while my friends
speed down in your best friend's car
laughing 'cause they thought this
could match us up.
What they didn't know is that the time
would never be right in between us.
- (un)matched.

please stop
the pain is ridiculous
you ruined me
by being so meticulous

you planned every move
every step you took
you had something to prove
and i could only move like a rook

you came at an angle
and i only move in lines
you saw your chance to entangle
me, and come for my spine

you play a good game
a very good match
you knew all my moves and aims
but i think i want a rematch

You thought you could burn me
Char me
Scar me
Oh how funny it was to see you
Trying to ignite
An already burning fire
With a measly match
-stop, you’re just going to hurt yourself

A match's sole purpose is to
Burn out.
Anything else, and they're simply
a Waste of Space.
It starts in the head,
And in one quick motion,
Flames.
It moves fast,
Consuming the entire match.

Shriveled.
Black.
Charcoal is all that remains.