You, you, you.

a fond memory that no longer exists.

Coincidences don’t occur often

I gathered my courage to say,

“Hey, do you want a smoke?”

The likeliest possibly for which I should’ve heard a ‘yes’ to,

Was, “no, I’m good.”

“I insist, it’s not flavoured, just the odour is vanilla.”

“Okay,” you said, which led things to align. I think to myself.

Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was the company,

Perhaps it was the substances, since they were nice,

they were bad and they were good enough.

Every moment made me believe

you, you, you.