As i lay down i feel my mind going into endless spirals, recreating shapes and faces of people i once knew. I feel my anxiety growing and crawling around in my lungs as the smoke enters them and paints them in my favorite color. No matter who's around me in the moment, all i see is spinning lines whispering the worst of the back of my mind. There isn't any light near except the one that keeps the cigarettes alive, making everything seem like time stops.
I'm a victim of that, indeed. Nothing really stops and just like the cigarettes, everything is gone sooner than you want it to. Everything encourages you to reflect and take a step forward but as a poet, i tend to look back, always thinking if i could have done something differently. My path doesn't changes and i never truly know if i'm walking on a steady ground or if i keep avoiding the cracks as i tiptoe around them.
I was never the victim, literally. Those cracks are mine, cause if there was nothing to hold me back, i'd run towards the past and never opened any other door than the ones i already visited before. Those cracks should remind me of my little self but she never really left. She's there and watches. Watches me do things i said i'd never do and hold thoughts of people i should no longer know. Yet she let's me, cause we both want one thing. If the only thing on my mind wasn't love, i might blame them but i can't. I crave it so badly and i'm willing to sin to get what i want. If there is a spark in the pitch dark, you can count on me avoiding my morals and betraying myself. If there Is something more that i could see in the mirror, i'd do it. I'd give you what you want.
So throw it all on me, please. I did it all for love, but you as a reader need to remember, i'm not telling you to see me as a victim — i'll do anything to be called anything else than that, but if you'd have to, make it known that i'm good with words. I don't need anyones pity but mine, and if it means i'll be held like water, i'd do it all again.
