Im sure he kicked off the heal of his boot
That day in November
When you were so flustered
That all that escaped your lips
Were foreign words that must be curses
In a language unknown

Im sure it dragged across the concrete floor
Like the screeches of human cries
And innocence being torn from a soul
Reeling in your every desire

I presume his face turned a bright shade of red
As his voice echoed through the bare walls
Of a house that once sheltered a happy child
Whose dreams and ambitions shone like a light
That could break the barrier of any complication
Or lack of consideration

Im sure it was colder than most that day
As the breeze wrapped around your silhouette
And forced you to watch as it was coiled with barbed wire
You felt your breath slowly shallow and your lungs weaken
Like a smokers after years of addiction
But he was your addiction

Im sure that day
You would have rather it have been a cigarette
That cascaded from your lungs to surround your body
Like an engulfing pitch black
Following the winding course to suddenly being consumed
With nothing other then its nicotine
Perhaps then the fading silhouette of the coiled girl
Would never have been created

Im sure you let it harm you
Chipping away at your already wounded heart
Until you lay weak and frail
Slowly trudging on like you were not as fragile
As your tampered silhouette

But alas,
You cannot choose your addictions
I’m sure that’s someone’s contradiction