"I feel sorry for you."
His voice was never one to mock.
It was always gentle, non-judgemental. (where's the catch?)
It didn't stop me from laughing anyway.
"Why?"

"It must **** to go through life too scared to really give a **** about anything."
(no really where's the catch?)

I admit, I lost my wit, there was nothing I could think of to say.
My tongue rolled around in my mouth looking for lost words
Checking behind every tooth to see if they were hidden there.
I managed to cough once to see if any were lodged in my throat.
But all I could think of was how
beautiful
he looked in the moonlight
the only thing giving light to his eyes, half a cigarette
I wondered then If the burning stump gave his eyes that red tint
or maybe
he was born with it.
******* on his cancer stick.
Maybe that's were he got his words from
I should start smoking too.
Maybe
"The world isn't so black and white, you know?"
He had a way of making the truth sound poetic
Like it did on that hill, by that creek, under that moon
By the burning cigarette
all I could think to say was
"The truth is only pretty in certain light"