"I didn’t know him
but I lent him my lighter anyway.
He had a fist full of roses
with no name attached;
they knew no home, instead
soaking in a vase of smoke
from the bent end of his cigarette
hanging from his wet lips.
And in that moment, it was there.
That feeling.
Like watching a lighthouse
circle its gaze at night
or staring into
(
Read more... )