The first line of the second stanza is half stolen (ive tweaked it slightly) from beyond sarcasm’s poem ‘neverland dreamscapes’. It’s an amazing piece, go & check it out

Her hand is shaking as she lights the match
& it’s not only the wick that is alight-
your eyes are on fire, burning like the candle flame,
burning the image of you into her soul
where it’s smouldering & bleeding blackened memories

(this is heartbreak, sunshine, what an adventure!
I feel I could almost drown (oh so intoxicatingly) in it…)

& you broke her so carefully that it could be called
perfection