Smoking Silhouettes

Hugging the walls of her room, the warm orange light

cascades over the soft tapestry hanging underneath.

Filling up with smoke, 

the room grows hazy.

dancing around my face, 

                                        teasing me, 

                                                          taunting me.

Suffocating me as it wraps around my neck,

the thick, herbal plumes tickle my head.

Escaping from the distant speaker, 

the beating of the bass lulls my dry eyes closed.

Sitting beside me,

She asks again “Are you okay?”

Shifting to a harsh red, 

the light wraps around her face,

masking her from me. 

I gurgle out a response,

although not to her liking. 

She scoffs in return,

A mark of our unfamiliarity.

The song I forget is playing ends.

Chewing the air, I take note 

of the deafening silence. 

Gripping my legs from beneath,

the slick, leather couch;

peeling at the edges

from years of sitting comfortably,

reminds me I am anything but. 

Catching my eye, 

the amber light shifts to a

golden hue.

Like the gold on the dress I am wearing.

I sink deeper into the black, leather,

implanting myself in those torn edges.

She speaks at me again, 

yet no words reach my

ears—

only the staggered tempo of my heartbeat to keep me company.