Maybe he will taste more of smoke
and less of me
when he will kiss my lips
Maybe he will realise
I am made up of ashes
That I am fragile
I may break down anytime
That they might forget my face
Who remembers things
that burn and fade away?
Ashes turn into dark confetti
with the wind anyways
How will he remain
the hurricane he is
if he is with me?
He might be scared
to be himself
I can’t risk that…
So I would rather leave him
with a cigarette and some smoke
and hopelessly hope
that someday
he might think of me
as the fire
that lit it
Some Smoke and Some Hope
raeesha.com 