Ode to a Lost Juul

O! The wasted and fleeting moments

that we shared together meant so much.

I was the generous one, and you were 

for the people. 

“Hey bro, can I have a hit of your juul”

shall not be spoken to me thus forth 

for you are gone and only the ruin

of what once was remains.

Never again can I rip a fat one

and blow sick clouds to impress the bros.

I am without myself, my extension

and I am lost.

That fateful night in the Uber

can hardly be remembered now,

after many rounds of beer pong and

kegs with the boys,

it being a Saturday after all.

But in my mind’s eye I can see,

o, most wretched thought, you, my love,

Sitting in the backseat having 

simply slipped away from me.

Until my father once again gives me

money, I am juul-less, and I am without

direction. Lost, in the never ending

swirl of shots with the boys, missing my

only friend, that sweet, beautiful hit

of mango. I long for one last hit with

you, my fallen brethren, and one true bro.