Fire

He struck the match,

against the dark box.

The stench of gasoline 

permeated the air,

and he felt the darkness stir,

while perusing the interior.

The memories,

almost a fantasy he couldn't recall,

for he no longer felt a bond.
The match burned,
while he contemplated.
He no longer felt human.

As the match's flame withered,
he discarded it in anger.
Why had he hesitated,
doing something,
he knew was unavoidable.
Surely he had the guts.

Bringing out a second,
he felt the warmth as the flame blossomed.
His heart beat faster,
and the gasoline stench
had become intolerable.
This was the end.

He flung the burning match
into the vast darkness of the living room.
In seconds all he could see
was a blinding white fury.
Tears pressed in the corner of his eyes
and he felt his insides starting to convulse.

Backing out slowly,
he watched as the flames
engulfed the only place he'd called home.
In his pocket a picture of Her,
his tears ran freely now,
and he sobbed for the life she wouldn't experience.