this will be edited one day

OLD

there is a flicker inside my heart: two matchsticks if you will, keeping the spark lit. with shaky palms, it fumbles. often times it wont light. other times, the flame turns iridescent, burns so bright it creates this indigo apocalyptic explosion. the unknown explore these matches in amazement. sometimes, they shake. others are careful. they work hard to keep the spark going. bad blood puts that spark right out. its silly you see. the matches were in the makers heart all along caring. she passed them along to be shared. unknowingly, sometimes the others hands/minds were too shaky and fumbled to try to keep it lit. they did not have the patience. its okay though: the spark is mine and mine alone. i must keep it lit. ignore the jealous ones. the disapprovers. the ones who are always right. they mean no harm. they just don't know better.