The Man with the Match

In the warmth of childhood, days full of light,

They roamed the fields, hearts feathered and bright.

There was a boy, his laughter echoed hers,

In a time when dreams and stars would intertwine.

Years swept by like whispers through the trees,

He sailed away on distant, foreign seas.

In search of better — fortunes, skies anew,

He crossed the waves and out of sight he flew.

One day, like a ghost from days gone by,

He emerged and caught her wondering eye.

His smile, a spark, rekindled old delight,

And suddenly, he made her world ignite.

A man with the match, setting her heart ablaze,

They wandered parks, soaked in the moon’s gaze.

Laughed till tears filled both their eyes,

His glance drew her in, like a gentle tide.

Yet lurking deep, beneath his polished charm,

Was something dark that whispered cause for alarm.

He’d twist her words, forge tales never told,

Masking lies in silk, both young and old.

Gaslit and confused, he made her doubt,

Turning love and trust to something worn out.

He knew her heart, her tender giving soul,

And used them both to meet his selfish goal.

Through whispers carried by a wind so cold,

Truth emerged, bright and ever bold.

She saw the man behind the mask,

A master in a deceitful task.

She shut him out — left his voice behind,

Erased the patterns he had knotted in her mind.

To him, she became a shadow, fleeting fast,

A memory faded into his past.

Her heart mended — piece by piece it grew,

In faith, she found a strength that was true.

God’s promise of a love yet to come,

A future bright, where she’s not just someone.

Here she stands — stronger by the tear,

A woman reborn, shedding old fear.

She sees the world’s beauty in grains of sand,

Trusting in the love from God’s own hand.

He was the man with the match, harsh but clear —

A chapter closed, no longer here.

In sorrow’s wake — she found her start,

A stronger spirit, a healing heart.

So on she goes with eyes that shine bright,

Awaiting love wrapped in the night.

A man of truth, not deceit’s clever ply,

A love that’s pure, reaching for the sky.