The dark was a wall

The dark was a wall

pressing in, heavy and close.

My fingers fumbled—

a single match scratched fire

into the silence.

A sharp crack—

like a secret breaking open,

the scent of sulfur burnt

before the flame caught

and began to eat the wick.

That tiny noise

carved a space in the dark,

a single bright thing

that didn’t ask for more,

just a moment, a breath,

a soft crack that felt like breathing.