Rain and Smoke

I sit alone in my dim-lit room,
With a cigarette in hand, I watch the gloom,
The rain taps gently on the glass,
A quiet song that seems to pass.

The smoke curls up, a ghostly thread,
A fragile link to thoughts unsaid,
I breathe it in, then let it go,
A moment’s peace in sorrow’s flow.

Each drop that falls, a tear unseen,
Washing away what might have been,
The echoes of a distant dream,
Fading like the smoke, it seems.

The world outside is blurred with rain,
A mirror to my inner pain,
As I sit and watch the night unfold,
The cold, the dark, the stories untold.

In this room, I hide away,
From the light of another day,
Content to drift in smoke and rain,
A lonely dance with silent pain.