Lost in Smoke

Life moves, perhaps, at the speed of light, slipping past us unnoticed as we jump from one task to another, mindlessly consumed by the grind. We move without being fully aware of whether we even enjoy the work, burning ourselves out, hating our existence, hating everyone around us. What do I like? What do I want to do? Will it align with my lifestyle? Am I even capable of doing what I truly want?

All these questions swirl endlessly. And so, you step outside, light up a cigarette, and let the smoke pull you into a different realm—a momentary escape from your rational mind. With each drag, the noise of your thoughts begins to dull, and for the first time in a while, you tune in to the small, delicate details around you. The things you missed in the blur of life come into focus: the flickering streetlights, the cool night breeze brushing your skin, the way people’s eyes linger on you before looking away. You catch those fleeting glances and begin to wonder—what are they thinking? Are they judging? Are they, too, lost in their inner turmoil, drowning in the same chaotic river of thoughts?

With every puff, the haze thickens, and the smoke makes everything feel slower, heavier, more meaningful. Somewhere in that fog, your mind starts to unravel. The boundaries of polite, conscious thought begin to dissolve, giving way to your darker desires, the ones buried deep within, the ones you rarely entertain. Your senses sharpen as your body softens into the craving for something primal.

You close your eyes, and in the smoke-filled fantasy, you imagine the warm press of skin against skin, the heat of bodies so tightly entwined that no air can slip between them. Your mind conjures the scent of her—sweat, perfume, and musk blending into a heady fragrance that makes your breath hitch. You picture her lips, slightly parted, teasing, grazing yours but not quite kissing yet. You can almost taste her breath—warm, intoxicating, like honey laced with wine.

In the dim glow of moonlight, you see yourselves—completely naked, no fabric, no barriers—just raw, unfiltered touch. The weight of her body presses down on yours, her skin smooth, hot to the touch, every curve fitting perfectly into you, like you were designed to hold each other. Her breath is shallow, mirroring yours, and every slow word she whispers feels like a secret shared just between you two.

You feel her fingertips trace along your spine, slow and deliberate, sending shivers that ripple through your body. Each brush of her hand ignites another spark, another craving. Your lips meet, not with haste, but with slow-burning intensity—each kiss lingering, each touch saying what words never could. The night stretches on, and the world outside dissolves, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of your desires. The air hums with unspoken promises, the kind that only two bodies entwined in shared passion can understand.

With every passing second, the need deepens. Her breath on your neck, the soft sounds she makes, the way her fingers dig into your skin—it’s a slow, sweet torture, a pleasure too exquisite to resist. And in this moment, nothing else matters. Not the unending race of life, not the accomplishments or failures—just this stolen fragment of ecstasy, where time stands still, and all that exists is the heat, the hunger, the desperate need to feel alive.