the way our heads would come together
as i’d pass you my lighter.
the way it would click and between us
there would be half an orange heart
flickering and illuminating our features
both our lips would touch it.
it’s not a kiss—not yet
the way your fingers would delicately curl around it
how i’d long for them to be around mine.
we’d be breathing the same smoke
its whispering curls would envelope us
and in the grey wisps
we’d huddle closer together.
i don’t smoke, but if i did, i’d gladly share a cigarette with you.