Thursday, May 23, 2013

Damp Cigarettes

I’ve pissed away all good judgment.
He came at me, carelessly swaggering, exhaling smoke like butterflies.
I whispered to myself, “Beauty always catches on fire,” and with that, our minds became damp, and I wanted to inhale him like the cigarette of my dreams.
I whispered upon fire,
that beauty always catches me.

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