Matches

Everyone else’s words make

more sense than my own…

a soft

regurgitation. Parts of me

are on fire and the world

is burning

to ash.

the warmth is so,

so good.

Cracking out of this old

shell. It hurts. It’s fucking painful

to outgrow

yourself, others.

I’m trying so desperately to cling

to the season that i’m

missing the changing colors and

I’m holding space for myself while

also

holding the

match.

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