Deja-scent

smoke, smoke, fire and smoke
always the flames and their scent
sucked in by dark fabrics, let out to the Lady
every moment, the quiet friendships
grow sharp and tarnish
pierce to the viscera, ejecting sobs
from a fixed mouth, metallic
a request, a quiet one
of "oh god, please answer"
in smokey sweaters, eyes glued to the screen