good night moon.

it is january 21st.
with only one hour left.
the smoke from a long forgotten roach floods my lungs, moving as a mushroom cloud, lethargically rolling over my red interior. the way smoke does. the smoke silently tumbles down the longing lining of my esophagus and falls to my lungs, weightless, but with the just noticeable sting of delicately seared flesh.
the sky outside is a good one to be under. we lay beneath the same one, though we dream in separate beds. the moon smiles even in sleep. i smile more when you warm me, but you know that.
good night moon.