La Danse d’une Fumée de Cigarette

An ode to days long gone…

In those long, humid summer nights, that I was so sure would last…

Just our two souls, heads and bodies buzzing with wine,

We stepped out of the kiddie pool we had bought on a whim, clad only in our own naked flesh, the day was drawing to a close.

As the water flowed from my hair, down my spine and chest, and finally to my legs, it was, along with the scent of the magnolias, a pleasant moment in the midst of the heat.

Looking at you, I first noticed that familiar, mischievous smile, you said with words that you would fetch the towels, but your face read another plan.

I shook my head as my lips curled, an inevitable smile; turning to the lawn chair, I grabbed a lighter and cigarette,

Still, I only had two chances to smoke before dull, flickering bulb string lights and a familiar melody startled me.

Cigarette in hand, I looked towards the door, and there you were, dressed in damp shorts and holding out a towel,

I walked quietly across the grass as the smoke followed me, only to limply remove it from your hand, and in my possession long enough to toss the towel upon the chair.

Two more steps and my arms were wrapped around your neck, my forearms relaxed and crossed, my fingers brushing your bare spine. That same twisted smile was back on your face as you tightened your arms around my waist.

My head rested on my arm and my face against your neck, dancing as the sun faded.

The cigarette still in my fingers never once went out, as you took me through twists and turns and dips and swings. Yet, I always found myself comfortably against you and touching our bare skin.

If the moment didn’t already feel like a dream, the fireflies I had only heard of before began to appear and glow among the many trees that created a forest around and behind our trailer, just hiding us next to the trains tracks.

That stupid cigarette always remained, its tip still burning, smoked as we danced, forming shapes like beautiful flowers, curls and twists.

Even the simple cigarette smoke added a surreal perfection, like a dream. Yet, the idea that moments like this were meant to last a lifetime; I was ridiculous not to realize that such a thought was actually the real dream.

I never saw fireflies in the twilight or in the place where our home used to be or in person at all to the day,

I would never smell the green, crunchy grass covered in dew again.

Never more would I smell the scent of magnolias as those of that night, the smell of our damp, curling hair and the sandalwood and dragons blood insense implanted into the interior of the trailer and therefore anything to enter it.

There will never be another time where I feel your warm breath, reminiscent of lemonade and tea trailing up from my neck and to my face, pausing for the moment my eyes met yours— my hesitation due to the red painted across my face as my heart near burst from within me.

Never again will your kiss follow your smirking lips as I still blushed at the way you made me feel; the love shared between two was so precious I couldn’t imagine how such a beautiful soul felt this way toward me.

Of course, I neither would know then this was our final evenings least of all that fireflies would light as I was dancing naked to that song with you.

I would never feel your touch on my skin, I would never see that twisted, mischievous, wild smile, and never would I hear your passion as we discussed in depth subjects, that of your brilliance only enchanting me further.

Worst of all, I couldn't let that thought cross my mind until shortly after that night. That the worst would come back, I would never see you alive again; your body robbed of life, your mind declared dead, that beautiful soul had ended.

It seems fair to say that cigarettes no longer drifted smoke that danced like they did on the eve of that day.