My Little Poetry Book

Smoke Flowers

I can't feel.
The tears run down my face.
I can't stop them.
They already started.
I want to let go.
I want to feel.
But everything keeps holding me back.
These flowers made of smoke are here for me.
Not always
They disappear too fast.
I wish they would last.
But like the smoke flowers.
I am only a moment.
A blip in time itself.
Only a second before I'm forgotten,
And replaced by someone else.
But like these flowers made of smoke,
I will always be a memory.
Here but not.
Until you want me to leave.
All you have to do then,
Is just forget.
Forget all that we had.
And just like these Smoke Flowers,
I will disappear.
Into the air.
Without a care.

~Stormer