fingers to lips, I press tightly
Eyes close restfully
Inhaling deeply
familiar routine
missing something.
What I breathe
is not dirtied with soot
only frigid air
turned hot steam
near the back of my throat.
I miss the sensation,
Though not the flavor
And this partial craving
Is far easier to stave away
Far easier to keep nostalgia at bay.
1.15.2017
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC
fingers to lips, I press tightly
Eyes close restfully
Inhaling deeply
familiar routine
missing something.
What I breathe
is not dirtied with soot
only frigid air
turned hot steam
near the back of my throat.
I miss the sensation,
Though not the flavor
And this partial craving
Is far easier to stave away
Far easier to keep nostalgia at bay.
1.15.2017
