a matchbook and chaos

The world sent me it's regards via a poorly written text...... And I failed to send back my reply because my hands were too busy clutching a matchbook and trying not to fall apart again.

I walked back the world over on roads I had left behind long ago, only to discover my ancient footsteps were overgrown with bleeding hearts; such a heinous flower that grew in my garden of ignorance. I ripped each plant out of the earth with blood and tears, but nothing changed; it never does.

I reached the home I was searching for; where all my paths started from in the first place. I was never aware that a fault line ran through my childhood.

I struggled for air in an atmosphere of ash and failed expectations as I sank to my knees. I wished my lungs could remember how to exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide, because they seemed to forget my need for breathing when I held shards of glass and ruins. And I blame myself for never realizing how broken I was.

I poured gasoline on a wrecked foundation and I can't even remember dropping the match. I just remember how the fire glowed like the eyes of a girl who finally surrendered to chaos.