03 | ganymede

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g a n y m e d e

he's smoking today.

a golden boy with a soft heart that was perhaps too big for his body takes long, deep drags that decay his lungs and take the feeling with them and leave the numbness behind.

he exhales long ringlets of smoke, and they curl around him, lingering before they dissolve into the air. 

i am a bystander, watching as he decays his lungs and poisons his body and fogs his vision with smoke, wishing i could hold his hand and stay with him as we both wait patiently for someone to hang up the moon and put our worlds back on axis.

i glance at him through rose-colored glasses imagining that i sat next to a boy made of blue, instead of walking away until he's nothing but just another speck in the distance.

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