I hadn't heard the wind blow in a few weeks. I bricked myself within the eight walls of my cell, I turned off the lights, and I drowned in the dark. Nothing protruding other than glimpses of my rafters, and two sets of stairs on either side of me, but I wouldn't dare use them. In fact, I had soon forgotten they even existed, I was blind to any escape from the infinity surrounding me. I couldn't breathe without poisoning myself, and I couldn't swallow without glass bottles prying my lips from each other. Repetition became an excuse, re-reading the tales trailing the left side of my left arm, rose colored love stories in flat black. Unfinished, unpredictable, but they are mine, and I know what follows. Broken windows, one in particular, and my silhouette in the star shaped shards barely intact. That's what made me feel alive, those simple moments filled with tint gradients, wishing I had never seen your trapping smile. Wishing you had never taken place of all the elements around me. This infinity is just a room. This room has a light switch, and two sets of stairs. This is just a chair, and my window is just open, and I miss when the wind would blow, because it was just you breathing.