I’m enveloped in a cloud of smoke
hoping it’s big enough
to dull my heart
even mezcal wasn’t strong enough-
if anything it just made me miss him
If I could talk to him
I would ask
“what are you doing, amore?’
But broken hearts speak like strangers
his words now so carefully arranged
so as not to tear me apart
which is ironic
because it’s much too late
for such niceties now.
But hey, that’s ok
maybe this is just what I needed
to get my creative juices
Lord knows I’m no stranger to pain.
So I welcome it in.
Tell it I missed it,
even though I was hoping
we’d never see each other again.