the most jealous i have felt in my whole life
was over a box of matches
there was a tiger and a goddess to guard them
and they were as long as my fingers.
and now i am going back home to the dark
welcoming me with such comforting arms
yet there are no candles or sticks of incense
for me to light (with lighters i stole
or matches i yearned for) and so
it is just as well that i never had those matches
for i would have struck some
for no reason at all.
they would have burned without purpose
i would have happily wasted them
so maybe i was really jealous
of needing the matches
of necessity
i am surrounded by things i desired
but had no true function for
from this day on i will only communicate in extremes
a book of a diary of a huge commitment in prose
in my favourite pen filled with ink from my favourite inkwell
or in conversations in the dark we won’t _ look at
each other, just stand very close
from this day on i will write love letters to strangers
and fabricate our whole romance
fantasies of what could have been but never will
and then i shall never get to know them even at all
out of fear of being completely wrong, or worse
slightly right and still it never will
my love letters will be kept in a box
on the top shelf or under my bed
lush and full-bodied and completely false
and with a craft knife i will slice
the most spectacular pieces out of these romances
and stick them onto card with glitter glue
work them into my bedroom tunes
taken from their context so they are
so they are
falsity in its highest and best
and yet they are
me in my highest and best
about
these are not songs; they are pieces of time i wrapped in affection and reverb.
i will never get over how much love there is to be loved and how much beauty there is to be found and this music is about me when i am not at my kindest but that doesnt mean it isnt real
(this is the strangest day ive ever had and i just wanted these to be found while they were still relevant because i might just be changed forever sometime soon)
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