Revisionist Poetry – Life of a Smoke, v.2

I lie in the dark that feels like forever.
I know I am because movement answers me,
solid matter pressing all around.

Sudden light. Hands take me—
a hard, soft squeeze. I slip
between two warm surfaces that close.

A sharp crack, a white flash; it comes close,
then touches. Air rips through me.
I burn.

Energy becomes pain when the breath returns;
it eases when the vacuum lets go.
I shrink. Lightness takes me—tired.

Senses float away; my body thins to a ghost.
Black again. No touch. No weight.
Existence blurs; I want the tight dark
where being was only sensed, not felt.