You said I left you alone in the dark
But you were screaming with the lights on
You said you didn't know where we were
But you knew right from the start
That we would crash and burn
Like falling stars, we were crossed
We were the enemy of the night
But now we're lighting matches
To help guide us home

And like that
I am lost in you.
The simplest of touch is all it takes.
Lost in that feel good place that beckons our name over and over.
The physical manifestation of what we both know to be true.
The feel of your skin pressed tight against mine.
Our fingers lost in the rhythm.
The Times we've made mistakes like this.
Our lips hesitant.
Reaching out to one another in a pace we can both relate.
You feel me and I know this to be true.
Both of us lost.
Slipping and sliding in reassurance.
Eluding the overwhelming thought that at any moment our eyes will shut tight and our inner fear will dissipate into eruption.
Anticipation built high.
We both brace for the thrill of fire.
A match striking the side of box.
Over and over until we are both consumed.
Blown away in satisfaction.
Neither of us can speak.
The peak of ascension.
And Like that I am lost.
Caressing you until the last ember is blown out

There was a Danish girl I knew before
A little girl who was unusual
The last time saw her I in local store
Or maybe I was just delusional
She always carried matches up her sleeve
And liked to set the fire to her stuff
The total strangers called her little thieve
And claimed she was supposed to be in cuff
Somebody said she went away abroad
To meet her mother who was working there
They heard she has been holding lightning rod
And waiting for the storm with humid hair
They said she went mad and burst into flames
She couldn’t handle things and gave it in
She was a fairytale, somebody claims
But fairytales like that just make me grin

“I have a habit of setting myself on fire
to keep other people warm”
she admitted with
her hands in her lap
and eyes towards the floor
at that moment
he smiled
took out a book of matches
and handed them to her

my shoes are caked
with brown mud and
my arms have new burns.
getting high alone in the woods
is fine until the paranoia sets is
and the trees i love on lsd
become my hated enemies.
i find a book of matches on
the ground, twenty minutes
after my lighter died.
they are wet and do not light.
the cigarette between my lips
dangles there, before falling
into the mud i trudge through.
i use my own name in vain
and try to pretend that
losing my lucky isn’t unlucky.

The next time we meet, I may be someone else.
 
Extra thick, light in weight.
Resourced to fit purpose.
 
The next time we meet,
I may be a splint. Easy to light.
The next time we meet.
Would silence truly do us justice.
Learning to cope before given reason.
 
Rounded off at the top, rough patterns felt between us both.
A spark that ignites the scrape of when I fell for you.
 
We stood there because we knew how we felt, we never truly understood.
Collecting ourselves in abrupt fire. Only a fool would stand to wither completely.
 
What else did we truly know but to extinguish ourselves in the same abrupt manner.
Breathing in each others essence. Stained in soot.
 
We lived in sulfur, sliming down in the same instance.
 Lighting myself before becoming contagious.
I thought this way because it was all I'd ever know

She's the thought that occurs in my mind.
The one that shows up without warning.
A gallon of gasoline, a handful of matches.
The spark that ignites there is brighter than anything
I've ever seen.
Setting fire to anything that isn't her.
I couldn't have saved myself If I tried.
Watching everything reduce to individual piles of rubble.
Shes recklessly chaotic.
Perfectly complexed in the way that she stands.
Striking the head of the match on the bottom of her heel.
There she stands watching everything burn.
Covering herself with my faults.
There she warms her heart by the fire.
Stoking the fire with old memories.
Slapping my hand each time I reach for one.
She's that one thought that asks me to hand her more matches.
Paying no never mind to if she's burned herself or not.
Dousing everything in gasoline that surrounds her.
Her reply to everything.
Revealing a devious grin, extending her hand for more matches.
Theres no doubt in my mind that she's a devil disguised in angel wings.
Roasting her halo over the fire,
Soon to press against me.
Branding me with her everlasting essence