Your head looks beautiful when encircled
in a wreath of ****
smoke billowing from your lips.

Do the stars shine brighter up there?
I wonder
sometimes
if they do.
Or if loneliness is
the only presence
you are greeted with
when lighting up.

Your eyes don't shine
like they usually do
when the flame of a lighter
is reflected within them.

Remember love flies,
like moths do, towards the light
and, in the end,
dies
just the same.