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Smoke
November 21, 2015
You blow away the smoke and find peace in the early morning,
As the coffee cup you hold kisses your lips awake.
You look out on the hills as you sit in silence;
You can't help but wish that you were somewhere else.
Your cigarettes stain your lungs the way you've stained my Autumn.
Your fingers roll them numbly as you are half asleep.
And the things I never said to you are wandering in the air,
But you block it out, close your eyes and show that you don't care.
© Olivia E., Alto, MI
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