Heaven, In Longing

I could never learn to forget how you could wear beautiful like a casually thrown on sweater, or the days we blew smoke together, till the world seemed brighter from your humble apartment; believing we could once touch the sun, heaven in longing. So we reached skyward with outstretched hands and received nothing more for our trouble than burnt fingers that could no longer hold on as the days blew away from us, like smoke on the wind