Just Blowin’ Smoke

You say it easy—

like truth don’t weigh nothin’,

like words don’t stick

to the ribs of a person

long after you leave.

Just blowin’ smoke,

you laugh—

like that makes it lighter,

like it don’t drift back down

and settle in my lungs.

I’ve heard that tone before—

half-real, half-running,

truth wrapped in a joke

so you don’t have to own it.

You speak in maybes,

in almosts,

in things that sound close enough

to mean something

but never land hard enough

to hold.

And I keep standin’ there

tryin’ to read through the haze,

wonderin’ what part of you

is real

and what part’s just

habit.

Because smoke looks beautiful

when it catches the light—

soft, shapeless,

easy to mistake

for somethin’ worth holdin’.

But it don’t stay.

It don’t answer.

It don’t choose.

It just fades—

leavin’ behind

the quiet taste

of everything

you never meant.