A cigarette burns upon your lips. You inhale. Embers breathe.
Plumes of smoke weave around your face, masking you in silver wisps,
Such imaginary swirls that cocoon your lungs.
Birthing clouds of moths, which waft towards the light.
A street lamp that unearths your eclipsed figure. Your grey eyes.
You smile. No. You smirk.
Tabacco coals turn to cinders. Papers fall.
You take one step forward. I take one back.
You reveal a Cheshire cat grin - so beautifully wicked.
Such a graceful entrapment.
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