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