The smoke entwines itself around and through your soft hair
It circles around your small nose
It traces the outline of your gentle facade
It laces through your fingertips
It makes a nest on your t-shirt, and rests there for the night
It cuddles up close to your smooth, pale skin
It warms you up on a chilly November evening
It makes you feel loved.

Oh, how I wish I were smoke.

Maybe then,
I could entwine
And circle
And trace
And lace
And nest
And cuddle
And warm
And love
You too.

{alaska}