It's back to the trampoline of reality. The moments up high, in the air, with the weightless feeling floating in every cell of mine. Followed by the sudden grip of gravity and the immediate jerk back down. Down till I slam against the ground, wondering if I ever was anywhere else.
It's like a painted canvas where each bold, distinct stroke holds a part of me I'm oh-so-sure about. Followed by a splash of water over the whole surface blurring every drop of colour, blending one into another until there's just a huge stain left and nothing can be made of out of it.
The blackness of my vision when I hit the ground and the darkness of the stain on my canvas, are just my own sins blurring the redness of my heart. Wonder if there's anything left there for me to call it my own.
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