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.