Smoke

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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