hot coffee on a cold, gloomy sunday morning
lit cigarettes emitting dusty clouds onto the front porch
smoke rising from a chimney
twisting and twirling
fading away
disappearing so graciously
i wish i could burn away my feelings
and the thoughts swirling in my head
let the powdery residue of ash slip through my fingers
and dance in the grey fog
a beautiful disaster
ending in turmoil
i am not afraid of fire
i am afraid of the destruction it makes