Grieving

It's been three months since my friend passed away

Moved on

Evaporated.

Like the dew on my windshield in the mornings, letting me know that summer is coming despite my resistance to its warmth, I insist to stay cold.

It's been three months since they passed on

Moved away

Evaporated.

With the ever-thinning air that I exhale my cigarette smoke into, I smoke now as if it pays the bills. Telling myself to

inhale the good shit, exhale the bullshit

A phrase I saw embroidered on a pillow at my therapist's office

or was it at Target?

In these past three months I have decided two things

1. I want to die, and
2. I want to live.

So I have decided two things

1. I want to keep smoking cigarettes, and
2. I want to keep writing poetry.

For the first two months following their passing,

Movement to the stars,

Evaporation.

They still remained my best friend on SnapChat. Telling myself

this makes me loyal, not lonely.

Not lonely as I smoke, inhaling as though I am waking up for the first time, exhaling as if I were releasing a part of myself into the air to be with them. Each exhale just another exchange in our Snap streak. Telling myself

always loyal, never lonely.

It has been three months since they passed away

Moved on

Evaporated.

Into the air that I still breathe through a mask of tobacco smoke, as if in defense saying

how could I be lonely? I carry embers in one hand and potential in the other.

Each exhale is a sign of life, not loneliness. Insisting the two are mutually exclusive.

SnapChat recently suggested someone named 'Billy da KXD555' based on their phone number. Realizing their phone number has been given new life I wonder if this is what reincarnation is?

Or if this is a social media smoke signal telling me to move on?

I tell myself

I will smoke less cigarettes.

I will accept the warmth that summer brings.