MATCHBOX
There are certain materials
I desperately hold onto
For I often fear, if I let go
It'll be gone before dawn.
There is a green box with red
Writing on the lid
On the brown table in my room,
Next to my blue curtain
And a white notebook.
I keep matchboxes in them.
Matchboxes I have stolen
From different venues.
There is one with the red tip,
the green tip, the brown tip.
On nights where darkness dawns,
I ablaze one, and hold it into the tight.
Desperately. It burns from Friday
Through Monday, before the curtain
Is violated by the rays.
It burns my eyes and my skicn
And my toe and every inch
I long to hide under layers
Of blankets hiding me like
layers of skin wishing to be
Peeled away.
I hold onto things desperately
Like the matchstick in the night.
When it burns out,
I strike one again.
And one again.
One more
Until the
Ashes cover
My skin.
-Krishna J. Nair | Matchbox | 26.03.2020