We’re breathing in a little flame,

and breathing out the smoke

This is how we warm ourselves

When nothing seems to work


Save your matches and your troubles

I’ve more than most to spare

I’m not here to listen to yours

And I could hardly care


But still I learn, accidentally,

What it’s like to wear your shoes

Seven and half and red on the edges

The laces slightly blue


I occasionally see you at “our spot”

And now I’m a little confused

Do I like to light up more often now?

Or is it because of you?

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