a poem that does not rhyme

As the wind blew the night we met,
we smiled and cradled eachother's embrace
who would've thought?
the sensuality only last when the clock strikes 12

you slept,
while i cried til the sun showed up to console me,
that when the trees rustled,
howlering over my moans,
then it hit me
 
i wont have to awake myself to grasp the truth that my prime years have decay.

As I snuff out this last cigarette's ember, i hope you'll vanish with the ashes it renders.