As the smoke flowed gracefully
through my tongue, for a minute,
I don’t want to think about her.
As I let out the smoke go
and share the weightless
absence of her scent in my room,
the pang of grief found its way
to terminate my lungs
and bite the only sign that could
metaphysically tell I am here,
unmoved but that’s because
I restrained myself to
while trying to dodge the mirror
that shows the eyes of the man
she once held closer to her world
only to be shattered by the same person
who is now in the middle of
torturing his lungs to run towards
to where she is now.
I almost run to where she is now
because my mind does, my heart does
along with my tears, they run
but the flashbacks shoved them hard
to the chair, she once occupied
while staring at me unhappily
And I felt so helpless for the first time
when I told her that it’s okay,
I want her to be happy.
Even if happy means – somewhere else,
someone else, not me.