smokerings

i will always return to you.
your name is whispered on the notes of
songs we sang together, in absence.
i will always return to you,
sans fear, guilt, secrecy
your heart being my dark
secret room
tired, endless escape into your lungs
swim smoothly through your veins
fall asleep in the gentle rise
and fall of your chest
you'd carry me around even if
you could barely carry yourself.
and it asks no return,
except all that i give and it
speaks no strange befuddling language of the eyes and the tongue
it just sits, close, warm, compassionate:
beating gently, whispering like trees in the sunshine
this deep, common dialect
of our lives.

-anon, discovered on blather