Smoke


Everywhere, I see heavy and blackened eyes
cursed by choking –
charred from souls, cooked into hearts

dancing in air

Telling cautions outsiders surely understand
Smoke—no ecstasy I remember ever accompanied it

Last night, a chap sat close
Horrid in demeanour
Torn clothes, dark scars on pale and troubled skin
I thought he noticed me not till
A bird came by, its feathers silk and soft
He caught it in his hands and
Held my eyes with attention

I swallowed my tension, a little boy with such grim eyes
He patted the bird on its back and let it off:
"Take your freedom, that I may have mine."

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