Vincent van Gogh
Skeleton with a cigarette.
We talk with no regret.
My heart beats fast in a fishbowl.
Yours evident from bone to bone.
You bring joy from unexpected places.
From texts to peculiar faces.
I took a smoke to make some time.
To wonder whether your question was benign.
I go through the same eb and flows.
The question of, am I in love? Or is it just the smoke?