The Places We Belong

I sit on the roof of this apartment - where I am not allowed, losing myself in the ethereal stars. The smoke from the cigarette dangling from my lips, making shapes as it rises towards the heavens.

How I wish you were here with me to form poetry from the stars and stories in the smoke. The perfect scene- how picturesque.

However, quite lonely when I sit here reminded of how you would enjoy this aesthetic perch, snapping memories with your camera and scribbling in your notebook as much as I.

Your poetic thoughts - my inspiration as they always have been.

We must visit soon.

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Rewriting The Stars

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