Balcony. Breeze. Light bulbs. Weed. Him.

We were sitting out on his balcony, enjoying the shallow haze that the tiny rolls of paper and grass provided. We were talking about our exes and I got a little bit hazy already. Oh weird, how I missed the physical romance. He kept talking about the songs which his ex recommended him. Sad songs that made me want to curl up and cry. But no. He’s here.

 That brightened my world like how the tiny bulbs did to the balcony rails. I took another hit and looked at him. He was looking at the blurry city stars. Huffing and puffing.

 I leaned my head on his shoulder, a habit. 

What time is it? 

I don’t know. Maybe 1AM? 

Aight.

Whatcha thinkin? 

How my dad thought I’m at a female friend’s house? 

Hm. You’re sleeping on the floor, honey. 

I know.