Matchbox
Picked you up
Turned you around
Stroked your feet
Knocked your crown
I looked inside
Took last light
Struck it hard
Flared the night
Burnt the skin
Flame lives within
Bound by Stockholm
Protected from wind
Loyal knights
Play a tune
Of ruined castles
In shallow dune
Didn’t burn away
Like it should
Fuelled by silent
Embered wood
Saved yourself
Sold me out
Yearning glowers
Stagnated doubt
Punished all ways
For your mistakes
Redemption pyred
Blind faith waits
Never will betray
the nearly known
Disordered ego
Your foresaken drone
Limerence fades
Reveals the reality
Sees the matchbox
In it’s totality
© Katypoetess 2013
Nigel Astell
Tue 6th Aug 2013 14:16
The nearly known
is the broken
it's the matchbox
that can't open.