The numbness is pervasive like smoke. It is fast moving silk. Sensual. Smooth.
And I chase memories. Ones I'm not sure I'd like to catch.
I can still feel the heat in his cheeks, lingering and burning like smoke.
My throat is raw. The smoke refuses to leave.
It is stained like a tattoo.
I cannot exhale. My tongue bleeds.
I am a ghost like smoke.
Red glowing lava,
light it up, smoke.
Somebody's angry in the other room.
Something is tattooed into my arm, my skin.
Invisible like smoke permeating my skin; it’s dark.
He's still angry, about something.
I think. (What can I do?)
I am far away again.
The lighter clicks and rolls beneath my thumb. The skin has thickened purple.
And I am still dark:
Gray like smoke, a born nomad wandering through the sky amongst the
stars and air, a foreigner everywhere, inhaling smoke, trying to breathe.