Matches
written by: Enviara
They die when I smell matches.
It started when I was seven,
at my friend’s birthday party.
The night suddenly smelled of ash—
like the kind that lingers
after you strike a match.
The next morning, the news came.
My friend was gone.
Forever.
But then, I thought it was just a game.
It proved me wrong in a few days
when I smelled it again—
burning matches, igniting flames.
This time, it wasn’t someone close.
Just the neighbor who lived next door.
He was found cold in the dreary night.
I heard he gave the shadow quite a fight.
I’m twenty-three now.
It’s been a long time
since I’ve witnessed death.
I smell a match.
But oh my—
there’s no one with me
yet.
I’m a young writer who has been exploring poetry for the past year, penning nearly 30 poems and two prose pieces—though I have yet to publish them. For me, writing is more than just creativity; it’s a medium of expression, a way to capture emotions and thoughts that might otherwise go unspoken. Through my work, I seek to translate feelings into words and give voice to the quiet moments that linger in the heart.
Latest posts by Enviara (see all)
- Matches - November 7, 2025
- Why Do You Write? - August 19, 2025
- Scintillating Echoes of Petrichor - May 10, 2025
