Shreds: “In The Smoke”

Thou returnest in the smoke I breathe
And thou dost gaze with indifference;
Almost in jest I commence to think of thee,
Almost by accident I lose myself in semblance.

Thou collapsest on a sheet that blankly observes
And speakest of words already said
As if they were hidden messages,
As if they were phrases perfectly read.

Thou livest in the land I now design,
Strings upon wood, laments;
Perchance poets have spoken of such;
Perchance these are but ancient torments.

Tattered scraps of a heart that commands me,
That heeds not reasons’ claim
And I know ‘n the darkness I ought to remain
And I know I should simply forget thy name.