one day, you will fall out of my life,
and I will never smell such sweet smoke again.

the world will reclaim you, and make us
strangers, as we were born, once more;
and memory will never do you justice,
as your face becomes static.

you will not be a part of me, anymore,
just a faint echo I hear,
from time to time,
when I recall the concept of loss,
and all the time I waste, doing nothing.

one day, I will wake up,
and forget to remember
that I don't want to forget you,
the curvature of your lips,
or the way you try not to laugh,
and how it escapes, anyway;

it will be the same echo,
I slowly become deaf to, as my ears fail.

but, I don't want to lose you,
please.

I've already made too many strangers.