Late

I miss the 3am conversations and the smell of smoke on our hands. The way the cigarettes dissipated into the winter air always captivated me, but not as much as you did. You caressed the tip of my lungs, spoke into my scars and breathed in my demons. I smelled your soul, kissed your mind and embraced your heart. The drag was always shared, but I felt we were always apart. Our sticks burned brighter than our feelings for each other and it wasn’t the chemicals inside the body that kept us alight.