I ran out of things to burn to send you smoke signals. Or maybe I just want to preserve what I still have so I would not destroy my treasures anymore. I do not want to wake up one day, completely alone in an empty space because I keep burning things to make you notice me. Why am I always the one sacrificing things here? Now my lungs are filled with polluted smoke, my heart pierced by longings, head filled with strong debates on whether I should keep you or leave you. Do I send you one last signal? Or is the silence already a message sent?

-m.b