I am the smoke
curling from your lips.
I move into every shape
in an attempt to gain your
attention, and hear you say,
"look at that, so beautiful"
with that expression of
admiration in your amber eyes
as I slowly fade away.
I twist and writhe
in the wake of your trembling
breaths and hover in the air
around your body
as if I am holding you,
even though I am too far
to do such a thing.
See, the smoke and I,
we are the same in
many ways.
The difference, though, lies
in the ease of how the
smoke can escape.