the smoke coming off my pipe
forms hazy visions of you
and the future we both craved.
i find myself
always coming back
to you
and the conversations we had,
where little was said
but much was felt.
it’s such a pity;
you’re nothing more
than smoke in my eyes,
now.
and yet,
i still find the high
of loving you
worth the chase.
~lt
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