Somedays, there’s a big glitch in my head while i’m smoking, as the ling series of stairs get divided into two in front of me.
And there, there’s a light gently waving at me. Gentler than a broken mother, and gentler than an angry father on a gloomy day.
It climbs its way up the stairs, and I swear it wipes the smoke dust off my feet and thighs. It slowly reach for my hands, but before I can hold it, the cigarette burns to and end.
And that’s the thing with love, hope, grief, devotion, and temptation, it all comes to an end.