I Smoke Alone The room is quiet, heavy with dusk, a single ember glows between my fingers. Smoke rises like whispered secrets that no one else will ever hear. I inhale the night, slow and deep, let it fill the hollow spaces inside. Each breath a silent conversation with shadows I call my own. No words, no warmth, no lingering eyes just me, the burning tip, and the gray veil that wraps around my solitude. I smoke alone, and for a moment, the darkness feels like home.