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The deepest relationship I’ve encountered so far has been that of myself, late nights, and a couple of my closest buds. Reminiscing on the time spent together, leaving a fallen heart feeling. My mind mourns the loss of my latest pack. Heated by the pale heat of my last cigarette, I outline the room with dancing smoke, swooning in my living area, begging for more company. Sweet curves: The only curves I’m attracted to nowadays. Love like this is never healed, and rarely ever treated.
There’s something so fulfilling about that serving sized shallow relationship. Its first kiss leaves you lightheaded, putting butterflies in your stomach, playing entire orchestra concertos on tiny cartoon pianos in your head, but its your second kiss that leaves you wanting an encore. Long distance relationships never worked, so you keep them close. Sometimes even sneaking them into the last showing at movies or into your bedroom at night. Making memories until daylight.
Now I’m sitting in a park bench outside the local coffee shop watching as a couple of Winter Texans converse about the local bee population and their insatiable need for caffeine. The customers beside me share some of the same romances as I do after all. Nicotine for the mind and caffeine for the soul. They won’t confirm their affairs with you however. They lust to love in secret. To have better to have loved loudly, then you have loved in silence I’d say.
