Smoke

Watching the slow motion visual
Smoke curling up over the top of her pipe
Waiting for the world to fade away again
Staring at the walls until she can dissolve them
Her presence being known to the night
Feeling nothing but the pleasure she envisions for herself
Knowing no one is around to witness her dissipation
Wishing the manifestation of thought was possible
Turning thought into essence
Watching the orange glow reflection
Wondering how long it will take this time
Her lungs burn with her heart and thoughts
Closing her eyes she slips away
Feeling the room vanish
She is with thought
Nothing in the way of her needs
Her desire all that matters now
It may just be the moment
But any solace is welcome these days
The brush of a hand
The presence of another soul
The warm ethereal body made up in place
Holding on to the soul falling apart