Smoke rings

1.
My definitions are fading.
Certain certainties replaced with
smoke rings
ingesting and
the flush of red wine
confusing
happiness in the cheeks
for some sort of life
enthusiasm.
I’m looking for light in dark
but find only that
I am just one story
in an infinite sea of confused faces.
My definitions are fading
to black.

2.
My love is a too tender thing.
Strung out
Stretched
Too long a need not met
All given
And a he
never returned.
My love is a wasteland
Dried up
Not even thirsty…
Extinct-ing
Extinguishing
Pft.
My love is abandoned.

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