I feel like the last bit of coal of a campfire. Still warm, but growing colder every second. I wish someone would throw some more material for me to burn through. Please cover me with leaves. My flame would rise up and shine bright once again, ever so passionately. But I'm probably finished now.
Perhaps I'm only the light at the end of a cigarette in a middle of the night, only flickering. And you don't know if you should put me out already or take one more puff.
The Loner said that people are full of lights. For every person that loves you there is one light shining inside of you. Maybe what I feel is just one of these lights inside of me, slowly fading away.
I don't even fucking know whether the light ever shined brightly. Maybe it was always just smoking a bit and flickering.
No comments:
Post a Comment