I stood out, leaning over my balcony,
cigarette in hand, my fingers searching for something to hold, a little danger, a little danger
and I smile
I take a whiff of my solitude, and I smile at how much I enjoy it,
this pain,
the poetry,
the slow fast thoughts I cant put to paper, this vain attempt at loving myself,
yet I smile as I write this because,
baby listen,
it has nothing to do with you