Un . Petite Fille

I strike ,
The gentle flick of my wrist.
A pretty blue flame forms.
I stare at it.

Lost,
getting lost in the orange.
It fills my eyes.
It is so beautiful and warm.

Soon, it stops.
The world stops spinning.
I am only holding onto a dead match in my hand,
the smoke blowing in the wind.
Thewarmth was gone in an instant,
replaced with a bitter chill.

I decide,
I go,
I follow the breeze and I'm up there.
The orange flame dissipated,
and I am all that's left.
But I rise.

I rise, and rise.
Free is the word,
I am free from this hell-bounded world.
Free from all the pain and sorrows.

But I see a little girl,
and I stop.

She is smiling, but sadly.
Her eyes are closed,
her hair,
billowing in the cold wind.
She was holding a little match stick in her hand.
I smile back at her.
She does not look at me.
I turn away, tears glinting in my eyes.

I think the girl is me.

___________________________________________________

Nicole (: