SMALL TALKS

smoke.

it was the smoke from his cigarette

the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed

the way he held my hand in the streets

and the way he made my lips turn up no matter what

how he'd hold me through the starry tunnel of night

how he'd wrap his jacket tight around my shoulders; my own safety blanket

how he'd say he'd never let me go, not even if the Heavens opened

not even if he showed his true colours

but the smoke started to stain my lips

there was no longer laughter in his smile

and when the Heavens opened it was to reveal everything

everything

the smoke was contaminating

suffocating

and in the end

he was the smoke that suffocated me

- sometimes it feels as though you can't find the air to breathe.