I inhaled you deeply.

I like to think that we met the way air greets fire -in one intense rush of breath that helps fire to it's feet.

 

I was equal parts fire and air, you were all water, and maybe that's where things went wrong.

 

I wanted to rely on the cosmos of our minds to point us in the right direction.

 

But when the sun gave up for the day so did you.

 

You pulled out a cigarette and the night incarcerated everything pure about you right before my eyes and I can't help but wonder is the moon taking pleasure in this?

 

I still don't know what made me take the cigarette from your fingertips.

 

Tell me, is it unrequited in the same way the smoke that chokes my lungs is incapable of anything but a slow death for all those who inhale?

 

Because I inhaled you deeply.

 

You looked so graceful, like you were taking drags of stardust, when you told me

 

"Saying 'I love you' is like a shout into space and you have no clue who's out there but you're hoping for a reply anyway."

 

I picked ashes off my sleeves as if they were pieces of you.

 

And I suppose they were.

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

The solemnness in the lines and the vindication just goes in the verse...there are great view points from all angles...the beginning:

I like to think that we met the way air greets fire -in one intense rush of breath that helps fire to it's feet.

and then as you continue within the lines:

You pulled out a cigarette and the night incarcerated everything pure about you right before my eyes and I can't help but wonder is the moon taking pleasure in this?

The question raised the bar of this piece...and towards the end the expression is left quite noticeable:

"Saying 'I love you' is like a shout into space and you have no clue who's out there but you're hoping for a reply anyway."

The entire read shows the despair...and ends relatively just as a fire dies to the ciders:

I picked ashes off my sleeves as if they were pieces of you.
And I suppose they were.