stealing beauty.

there are some days when I forget about art
and I wake up dead inside;
I forget about summer nights
about the smell of August storms in the middle of the day;
I forget about writing 
on little pieces, 
scratched,
torn away;
I forget about the cigarette smoke 
in the bedroom
early in the morning sun
when you sleep next to me;
I forget about stolen joys;
I forget how little I need to be happy;
I forget to breathe;
I forget that life isn't about success;
it's not about money
it's not about university,
responsibilities,
careers
or jobs
it's about happiness,
sparks,
no - forget your sparks and give me fire, wildfires! - leaving nothing but ash afterwards.
when your soul shrivels under uninvited burdens given by someone else;
I forget about those bursts of deafening laughter;
stains of red wine on a white cloth;
and I almost forget those diamond-like words at 4 a.m.
spitted in a drunken slur.
there are some days when I forget 
the reasons why it's all worth it 
to keep on stealing beauty.

V.