Seamus Whittington Crawford III
Match Burned Out - Poem by Seamus Whittington Crawford III
The strings attached
Whenever I light a match
To see you're gone.
Wind blows cold when you ain't around,
When the train rolls past with you on board,
Smilin' goodbye and lookin' right down
At a heart you played like an out-of-tune chord.
No, I'm still not over you, gypsy mama.
With your big brown hair and eyes all ablaze.
But I had enough of all the melodrama,
Gonna take my fishin' pole and see what else I can raise.
Then the match grows weak - can't tell what's right.
Oh, no, here it comes again, that same old dark,
Where the only woman who comes into sight
Is the only one woman who's still breakin' my heart.
Maybe it's best the only picture I got
Is the one my mind sees every night.
And I'm sorry to say it don't help a lot
When God wakes me up with all that cheerful sunlight.
I used to think: 'It'll be you or nobody else.'
But nobody else is what you've become.
I can be alone just fine without your help,
Don't need your silence to tell me we're done.
No more strings attached, baby, not even a thread.
You'll stay the way you were in this young heart.
All the things we used to be, they're not all dead.
But lettin' the match burn longer ain't too smart.
So thank you very much for all the good times...
I learned how to love and I learned how to cry...
Just remember every night, 'round about bedtime,
That a dream's about to start and you're the reason why.
(© 1987, Half Moon Bay)
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