These cigarettes smoke too quick and I'm gasping for a lack of oxygen like a fish flopping next to it's bowl. This autumn breeze is cutting me in half, but I don't mind.
It's smell of the dying leaves that remind me of you, and those watercolor sunsets setting on our backs. The baseball dugouts of our youth are desolate and all but forgotten by my childish heart. These reminiscent tears will not fall from the crevices of my eyes though.
It's when my nose starts to turn pink, and my fingers ache between the last few puffs of smoke, your face reemerges from the depths of my memories. Young and cheerful, mixed with uncertainty.
It's when my legs grow tired of walking, and I can feel my toes freezing inside of wet shoes. I remember sitting beside you, on a curb or a swing, with nothing to do.
And when people ask where I grew up, I say the heights, but what they don't know is I grew in the reflections of your hazed eyes.
