In the winter I am made of smoke,

rising aimlessly

in dancing twists and turns 

against dark, cold air. 

I wander with translucent skin

and mind

desperately feeling the sky with my fingertips 

praying for snow to hug my body 

and maybe bring me back down. 

I come in waves,

I hurt your lungs,

try to touch me and I will disappear.

I am weightless

but so, so heavy. 

Some days I feel like I am floating away

and foggy

and the result 
of something

burning.