Smokie

Halfaway

Aug 9, 05

I love him. That much is obvious.

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He’s that ache in your hand after its been asleep too long and you reach out to touch him and he feels just like that pain, that longing to be asleep again. But he’s a dream worth having. Or perhaps the all too real feel of something else returning, burning blood, to your finger tips; after you’ve been soaked or cold, but he’s not gone. He’s always been there.

He’s a dream worth having and you are lucky to have caught him, though he’d slip through you like smoke. Like ash or mist or some dark, beautiful thing that should be cherished, not claimed.