Matchsticks

like a match lit
our passionate desire
ignited
in a sudden burst of color
your bright laughter
as I nipped your shoulder
and heat
your tongue melting my thighs
and the acrid smell of burning flesh
as we crushed and sought
to overwhelm the other

well
just as rapidly
poof– a quick breath
and I was left just smoldering
remembrances of your molten touches across my chilled flesh

when your oxygen silently left me
the gentle click of the door
you crept out in the night
and I was grey ash
a wisp of smoke turned to nothing
but charred remains

just a whisper of a breeze
the curtain fluttering in the window
and I’ll be gone


©️ tara caribou – 2018

11 thoughts on “Matchsticks

    1. probably bad form to reply to one’s self – your post reminded me in part and passing of a song by Sixto Rodriguez called “I’ll slip away” … and another called “Crucify your mind” … you may experience some congruence …

      Liked by 1 person

  1. It is funny how our senses perk up when in the presence of striking a match. The expansion of light then the burn. The light can only exist as long as there is fuel to burn. Passion should have fuel to last into eternity. Great piece of work.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love how it flickers up, flares like a matchstick, burns bright, consuming itself and slowly fades to black, the charred remains of what once provided heat and light… leaving behind just the smoke, the ghost, the creeping cold… breathtaking, beautiful, insert similar adjectives here!

    Liked by 1 person

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