Existence

[softwhispering]

I sit cross-legged

My back to the house

Listening to the tiny crackling

Caused by each drag

Of my cigarette.

I think of you, and all the things

That will never become

Of us, and blow my smoke

At the sky.

I’m hoping the smoke-clouds

Will reach the stars,

But gaze at them as they

Dissipate into nothing.

And realize that even these stars

May have stopped

Existing.

Comments

[soul__kitchen]

pretty!

[softwhispering]

haha thank you