The Art of Destruction

She notices that her cup is filled just enough to get her drunk, yet her thoughts already filled the glass. You see, that is the art of destruction. Everything that comes into your life ends up hurting you, or you hurt it, there is no in between, no balance. When I was 5 years old, looking at the stars I asked myself

“is this temporary?”

but unfortunately, it all began to be temporary.

“Temporary love, Temporary feelings, Temporary hugs. I learned to let you go before you actually let go- says destruction

And I notice myself swaying in my room, accompanied by the shadows of yet another faded relationship, and the wine glass that now appears to be empty is the only thing holding me together.

I always wished to be a poet. To which I can write my words, just so you can feel them. Writing has been the only staple in my life, and it always finds its way back to me.

And it takes me back to that girl on the bench- at two am. It snowed that day, and all she wore was a cocktail dress, and headphones that were hidden in between her fallen, brown curly hair. She looked so fragile, yet she seemed unfazed by the cold. The art of destruction- you feel the world burning down- forgetting how to live in it. You live your life in slow motion, waking up by the alarms ringing beside your ears, and just like a machine you go to work. Or you dont. Its a loop that eats you alive. A nightmare that you cant get out of.

And then the sun goes down, and you begin to feel. Your heart starts beating again, you become awake- because you finally synced up with the world. Because everyone has gone to sleep, or are indulging in whatever addiction they have, and you gained a sense of quietness that only your heart can feel. Because at two am, when the world has gone to sleep, there is nothing that can hurt you. Or maybe this whole time, when you take the headphones off, you notice that its you sitting on that bench at 2 am

perspective asks, are you awake?

and I reply,

not yet.

-from my empty glass of wine