PrideI spent 20 minutes alone the other night, sitting on the stairs of my apartments entrance, contemplating if i should smoke the first cigarette in three months.
I owe this particular temptation to you. You, who has unwillingly expanded my comfort zone, and tend to disappear in the middle of a conversation.
For the past years, I had gotten used to being content in the corner of my room, reading, writing, watching series, or drowning myself in work and activism. Oblivious to the fact that there was still a bunch of emotions I hadn't felt, and a bunch of experiences I hadn't lived.
Then, just as I step out of my common days, you step in. You take them, and put everything in a different place. In days your snarky comments became a thing to think about, your life - a thriller mystery.
You act as if you're on top of the world, as if time never abandons you.
Then you say you're simple. As if you simply eat, sleep, f, drink, and talk like everyone else.
Your heart is broken, just like mine was, time does not wait for you either, and you're not on top of the world.
You're still hers, you're still there, and it kills me to see your potential being wasted in memories and TV series.
But you are no ordinary human.
You have the aura of the devil, that gives goosebumps to anyone who crosses your path, and the healing power of an angel.
You can make sense out of anything.
Which is a scary and dangerous combination.
I didn't smoke that cigarette and I wish it was as easy to quit you.
Poetry by zana
Read 422 times
Written on 2017-10-07 at 12:54
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