A stable build fabricated
from ideas of untruths.
A trace of cinnamon and smoke
although small, tremendously
intoxicating,
a drink of controlling spirit.
I could leave to the insecurity of
a world so up in flames,
however I stay in the clutch of your smoke.
In your scent.
You are forever, so rare.
Life has a funny way of living, and
your haziness makes it clear
the danger. This is momentary.
However you are a structure of steadiness
even when you leave.
Your hold takes me too, and I
departed.
Contained within your smoke and cinnamon.