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
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