short ones

the greyness kissed past her lips,
arising from their redness
like a fresh morn’s mist,
afar and amidst
the toppest tips
and bottomest dips,
yearning, she’d insist,
though what for, she wasn’t sure,
even after she gracefully smoked four more.

some things must be kept
in a safe place,
like an embrace
is kept close at heart,
lest it part
with the wind and be swept
away from memory lane,
never to be seen again.

at times my mind
will spurtively decide to unwind
i step carefully
through the thoughts
and memories, nostalgically
letting them unfold before me
like a mine of vines
chaotically intertwined,
all against the race of time.