smoke

The length of day requires isolation.
Shivering in my cold, leaving oxygen particles on my invisible window/mirror.
Personal inventory,
And glazed eyes.
A few etchings are made in my mental steno pad.
Tears creep as I recall earlier sagas,
And love lingers in its usual wayside longing.
Privacy?
My nails are dirty and the wind is crackly
Whispering chastisement for my habit.
Time chisels-clearing away for the new.
Change.
My fingertips burn waiting for my lips to purge this moment’s fire.
Heavy lidded, romantic lashes.
I’m sleepy.
Okay.
I ash and exit my temporary retreat.