Smoke...

I wrote this...I'm not sure how much I like it...but here it is-

Smoke makes me think of you,
it shouldn’t, you aren’t the first to.
And yet the smell in my hair
even now, (you weren’t there tonight),
reminds me of you.

I get you in the day,
(you’re never here at night).
But it never seems like enough
for me—maybe it’s too much for you.
This smoke never goes away.

In the dark, I seek out other smokers.
They exhale and I inhale you.
Their smoke clings to my clothes
and I can imagine it’s you breathing,
(but only if it’s in the light).