I burn as I inhale. It is dark and hot.
It sits in my mouth, travels through my deepest thoughts.
I look up into the sky, hoping I will see an angel.
Clouds leave my lungs, creating shapes that I could only hope
is the pain vanishing away.
I dream when I am awake, I dream of another day.
Where it made sense.
Where you and I were the same.
I look at the floor as it moves passed me.
Why is it that memories only stand behind me,
when my dreams are the ones I can never reach?
The wind tries to stick, the wind is what insists…
on making tears dance around my face,
reminiscing the wetness of your kiss.
My fists are locked up, if I could only punch it out of my chest.
If I could only punch you in the face.
Under my fingernails there is an entire story to be told as I play.
I hate that happiness is a representation of our fate.
I hate it that fate is no longer with you.
I hate it that… it hasn’t killed me,
and I sure know it will never kill you.
It hasn’t killed me… not yet, making my stronger, I bet.
I take another hit and blow the smoke again,
because even my own body knows that, hope is the last one to be gone.
Hope is what keeps me sane.