14 sphère

and you, when you think of yourself,

what do you think of?

would you dare to think of the storms

of your mind?

when i'm thinking of myself... i'm just thinking of the emotional failure that tends to occupy my brain. it's the kind of failure that sends me nowhere but far away from you— the reality i often choose to live in.

do you think of me at all?

because when i thought of you, i thought of sunflowers and white roses, the ones you've always liked. i thought of the taste of coffee that slowly dripped from your mouth when you were more than tired of yourself, when you weren't so pleased with what you were seeing.

but now, when i think of you, i think of a blur that bleeds into clarity. i can still see you when i melt into you, when i melt into the memory of your cheeks as we're one laid on top of another.

that was my vision, my preference, but people have the tendency to blame our strange behavior.

and the question that wanders some of the

corners of our minds is "why?"—

because this isn't me, this doesn't sound like you. this isn't something i would usually do, you've lost your authenticity in their denseless eyes. everyone's trying to get through your frustrations, seeking the attention you don't want to get. but they won't know the gravity of your pain until they'll receive it.

the amount of pain doesn't have too much of a relevance to my brain, because when you enter someone's life, their pain desires you. it's the kind of pain that feels like the end of june, but the beginning of something that you'd love to call your forever home.

that was the kind of pain i couldn't abstain from, i thought i could turn your suffering into something better than regret and consumed thoughts. your agony intertwined with my happiness. it dragged away any kind of mental force i had, and now i'm just living, as my existence is too pale to look at. i'm living something that's not well lived, my dearest. you carried the pain for too long, it had to be passed to someone else. that someone couldn't have been anyone else but myself.

i embraced the downside of our encounter, i'm treating the emotional exchange with nonchalance. perhaps i'm trying to convince myself that the intense combination between lust and love has nothing to do with the suffering. i'm your solar system— you just centered yourself in me.

why do i find it so fair? because people can't prevent their lives from something that's unknown to them— learning through pain.

and people will never be able to relate to something that's going to burn them alive.

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