So

Parchment spread

dry, wide.

Between tokes,

breaths,

I watch your mouth.

Nothing

betrays your inner fire:

Passion hot

like

sticky black tar

in my chest.

I hang on each cilia

a memory,

the smoke

sticks.

Affix a destiny to the stars,

the end of a story.

It's written.

Coat me in the thickness of your sigh,

a remnant

of your pain.

The silence speaks,

heavy and loud,

between your words.

So.

Tell me your story:

I'm spread

like parchment.