I still hark back,
the silhouette you etched
against dimming mist.
I Inked,
an impression of smoke breeze
your cigarette leaches.
I still behold,
that cajoling demeanour,
in a gathering haze,
yet a hunch,
facade masked in pretence.
I still embrace
that oomph sillage,
lingering in mist of heat.
I yearn.
I still do.