he exhales and slowly fills the outside air with greying phantoms,
i sit and watch the night unfold into an array of stars and the bulbous moon.
we sit silently.
the symphonic crickets chirp through the night.
he slowly takes a drag, then releases more phantoms into the air.
we sit on the old orange bench with chipped paint.
i swing my legs just above the ground and rest my arms at my sides.
moths swarm the eerie yellow porch light.
i breathe in the scent of the autumn crispness and phantoms.
i turn to him and watch the ghosts take form.
each squiggling their translucent souls out of his mouth, stretching their arms and sauntering into the endless night.
he puffs them effortlessly.
he doesn't even seem to notice i am here.
so i watch as he puffs and puffs.
a/n: smoking is unhealthy and unsafe. i am not promoting smoking, this is just a memory from my childhood. stay lovely,
TheLonelyPineapple.
YOU ARE READING
midnight musings
Poesiait's late, i'm awake, so i write. [some parts are lowercase and some are not. depends on my mood.]
