Gasoline Poem by Hassaan Butt

I am gasoline, trapped inside a tank—
contained, waiting, volatile.
And she is a matchstick, burning pieces of herself
just to bring light to the world.

It's dark in here.
Not afraid, just lonely—
without the flicker of hope.

Then she struck.
She lit to brighten my world,
but she didn't know—I was flammable.
The spark met the fumes,
and in a heartbeat, I was vapor.

Boom.

We were perfect together,
but perfect doesn't always mean safe.
We fit so well—yet all we did was destroy.

Now she lies there,
burnt out, hollowed, rugged.
And I—free in the air, yet suffocating.
She's gone, but her fire lingers on my skin.
All I have left are memories,
embers of something that was never meant to last.

Am I alone, or is this just an illusion?
Am I dead, or am I still burning?