Even The Smoke Goes Up


It’s a sunrise later than 9am

As I curl beside you on bed

Your toes and me, they stroke

We’re stuck on fake sleep, we love!


This is a morning of us

To linger on coffee and donuts

To shut our ears from the selfish silence

To numb the hate, to magnify the love


I stare and you kiss

Our phantom hopes, it disappear

We float, we’re astral projections

Our heaven is perfectionism


We don’t wish an ending

Whispering our I LOVE YOU’S

Over and over, again and again

This fire, we create our smokes






About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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