i sit here,
watching the moon,
watching the smoke from my cigarette,
streaming from lips,
curling up into the air,
and i always wish that i was the smoke,
O the pleasure i would have floating through the sky,
flying with the wind,
winding my way through the trees,
completely free,
free of pain,
of sadness,
of loss,
free of your memory,
free of your voice,
free to let you go,
but like the smoke of my cigarette,
its smoke lingers in my lungs,
like you linger in my mind,
the smoke kills me slowly,
and your memories pull me down,

so i sit here and wish that i was the smoke,
floating into the sky.