you struck the match—now swallow it.
if you can sympathise, we might just be in
the right place to make a wish. or be a prophet,
lay your head down. forget what made you
comfortable.

it is deeper now, so much darker than before
your head—solely unbalanced and wringing the towel
of insecurity. i have not made up my mind, or
blown out the candles. sometimes, it feels
like all that matters is the charcoal
caked against your tongue.