Aftertaste

My hair smells like cigarette butt. Not quite, more like light whiffs of smoke.
But I don’t mind. Because it almost always does after I’ve had a good time.

Now is, I think, my chance to meet everyone I’ve left behind, and everyone waiting in front of me.

I’m not trying to fill a void, because there is none. I’m just trying to fill all the time I have with whatever meaningful thing or moment I can have.

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