As the smoke unfurled,
I found myself laughing. Smiling.
We talked about love, we talked about sex, we talked art and argued politics. We talked about the things in between.
What was left?
You said I was uptight.
I said you were too unserious, and what a pity. What a mighty man you could be.
All that mattered to you was the moment.
All that mattered to me was the future and being ready to meet it.
As the smoke unfurled you showed me how to slow down.
You slowed me down.
Slow down, just listen to the music.
The smoke surrounding me, you told me to just breathe slow, listen to my heartbeat.
And soon, you couldn’t tell me that sound wasn’t one in the same.
In sync with yours.
You taught me to play poker, the kind for clothes.
I was a quick study.
You were down to your socks and a smile.
I, in a bra and some jeans.
You may have lost on purpose.
You had a tendency to never show me your hand.
Our time was short. Intense.
As the smoke unfurled, we’d sit and let the music play and intertwine with the funky fog. I hated the smell, I liked you and the feeling more.
It was a habit I was never really fond of, but for whatever reason with you it was kind of sexy.
With you, I got to be the bad girl I knew I always was, deep, deep down.
Your lips were rich with my secret.
When the smoke left my lungs, stung them with the burn, I was someone else, yet so familiar.
You saw that other me I refused to show.
You saw that other me I refused to know.
You made me do it.
Nah, I went willingly.
I wanted you to take your art more seriously.
You showed me I didn’t take fun seriously enough.
I miss you now when I hear certain songs play or smell that smell in the air. Sometimes I even get a craving.
I think it’s more you than the smoke and the connection I’ve made between the two.
The sensory memory is insane, like smelling an old sweatshirt or cologne or shampoo, but when I smell the ooh wee, it reminds me of you.
Our paths have diverged.
Fates forever changed.
I went for the sure thing, and that ruined me in the end.
When the morning would come and the smoke would clear, I was back to my old, uptight self.
I was again impatient, you weren’t what I thought you were supposed to be and as usual, you were doing it on your own damn schedule.
We’ll never return to those hot sticky, smoke-filled nights, with scattered playing cards on the floor. Our games left unfinished, but somehow we both managed to win.
I’d like to think I helped you grow. I sure hope you haven’t lost your light.
Because when I see smoke unfurl at night,
I remember I still have mine.