In a moment,
in one blur,
it was all rushing back;
cigarette smoke on my lips,
leaning in as if we're about to kiss,
arms squeezing me tighter,
my head getting just a little lighter

that knowing smirk

your hot breath on my neck
and the last time I checked
your hand wasn't on my thigh,
then you say in that longing sigh

"Are you jealous?"

and the question still lingers
like the sparks at the tips of my fingers.
But of course, I deny -
after all, you were never mine,
even though you still often steal a glance,
we don't stand a chance.

*But I guess it's no surprise
that I still dream of twilight skies
and your emerald eyes.