you smile, and it’s like summer-sworn spring,

the swell of chirps melting into birdsong.

dragonflies whizz past memories that i painstakingly burn

on the back of my eyelids. 

a cigarette dangles from your fingers,

your mouth a breath away from the filter,

the drag you take punctuated by heaving coughs, 

your i’s dotted by my laughter. 

“how funny,” i murmur. the tar snakes itself into my throat, 

and i can almost imagine the taste. 

( it’s acrid on my tongue, but i don’t think i miss it. )

there’s too many things i want to say 

and never enough time. “how did we get here?” 

you tilt your head towards me. “does it matter?”

— it doesn’t, not in the long run.

you offer me the cigarette and i hold it between my fingers.

the glowing embers dimming, a final stand against the

inevitable night. 

i respond with a smile and not much else,

the orchestral din above keeping us company

like an overexcited host. 

i crush the remainder of the cigarette under my boots.

“maybe spring’s come to stay.”