My Departed

Short poem about an old friend.

Burnt,

floating around,

those ashes of first love.

 

It swirls through the air,

forming loose ideas,

yet it's only made for smoke.

 

I blow the air.

 

His flame has disintegrated,

still I breathe it in,

as if used cigarettes were clean.

 

This lonely ember smothered:

our untimely tragedy.

My departed, forgive me.

 

I am sorry.