Don’t tell me what’s on your mind.

Take me for a night drive.

We’ll take turns with the playlist.

We’ll listen in silence.

I’ll light us up a cigarette.

And we can drown in our own pollution

Of thoughts and smoke.

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Silence is but a temporary escape.

I took the last chain of smokes for tonight

as I sat in the cold,

hoping the chilly night would freeze my heart,

freeze my emotions for a second,

but all it did was numb my hands and face.

I placed my ear plugs,

replaying the songs that best described my misery

at maximum volume,

silencing the sound of the wind,

the sound of passing cars

the thoughts that still rebelled against its host,

and the shriek that exploded from my trembling mouth.

The tears followed, but my face was already numb,

so I didn’t feel it running down like Niagara falls

Today’s cigarettes have already burnt my throat,

I couldn’t feel the cry that screeched itself out.

I only felt the aching tightness that blazed in my chest.

And between the first song and the next, a pause –

I heard it.

The suffocating sobs that I have tried to bolt inside this fragile self of mine.

I’m traumatised.

I hid under my coat,

waiting for the wind to blow me away.

How many do I need to smoke to burn…?

Chain-smoking.

A new hobby, a habit.

How many do I need to smoke to burn my lungs?

How black are my lungs now?

Are they black as my soul?

Stained by all of the sins I’ve done and will do?

How will I describe them if I ever dissect myself?

Black as charcoal?

Black as midnight with a few popping stars that faintly shine, indicating some kind of existing hope?

How many do I need to smoke to destroy my lungs, so it can shut-down my heart?

Why do I need to indirectly damage my heart?

Why don’t I just get a knife and stab it already and get it over with?

Why all of this dramatic slow suicide?

Ah, yes.

Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten.

I don’t want them to directly look and know that the problem lies in my heart.

I don’t want them to find the name carved within that bloody muscle.

I don’t want them to blame you.

I don’t want them to find out about all this love that I am saving for you.

I don’t want them to find the painful sufferings and point their fingers at you.

I don’t want you to know that these are my true emotions towards you.

I don’t want my strong self to be crushed by this weakly that I am now.

I want the love I have in this beating muscle of mine to be hidden from prying eyes, including you.

I want to burn it along with my soul and leave no trace of it in this cruel world.

So tell me,

How many do I need to smoke to burn my existence from history?

Take shelter in the darkness.

The sadness swept in

like the wind in a lonely night,

peaking through the holes

of the broken windows

and moulded walls,

bringing in the cold and dirt.

Despair shined in

like a curious torch,

looking for treasure and goods,

but only to find ruins and unwanted fragments

of an abandoned heart.

Wrap yourself in the shadows. 

Take shelter in the darkness.

Shut your eyes and cover your ears. 

Let the dusky air shun away the world

that left you behind.