133.
I've dated you for 133 days now. And you smoke a pack a day.
133 days of bliss, confusion
Blind love
Incredible love
Sure love.
I've kissed parted ashtray
Where those cigarettes have disappeared into.
An ashtray I visit
With my own wandering lips,
Time after time.
But I'm not sure
I'll ever keep up with the cigarettes.
Because you have smoked
2,660
Of them by now
And I know I haven't come even
Close to that
Number of kisses.

2,660,
A number that sinks
In my stomach,
The immensity giving it weight.
Because how many more days; packs, cigarettes
Do I have left with you
If you smoke so often?

The builders got it wrong...
They made the deep window sill
On the other side of the window..
Perhaps it was supposed to be
Of architectural significance
And not for sitting at all
But I sit,
My back to one side,
My toes pointing shyly at the other... Knees up.
I fit so cozily and
Suddenly I am in a box
Opening to the world,

I'm on a ledge, essentially.
I like the excitement;
The possibility,
That at any moment I could simply lean too far, shifting my weight
As I read
And I'd crash down,
And hit the ground,
Diminishing into this ****** world.
And it would look suicidal,
And that could be true.

Eyes averted
Guilt ridden eyebrows
Dominate expression.

I loved her so much
But now she's ****** everything up
There is remorse in her eyes,
Regret whirs through her body,

But there is also a portion
Steadfast in what she did,
Because something has taken her away
From me and the world,
Swept her off her feet
Leaving a fullness in
Those highs,
My lows could never fathom.

I stare at her once more
Seeing something different
In eyes I used to love
And still love.
There's a hunger for
That adventure
I can never compete with,
The addiction reliable
In the way it holds her close.

And I turn away,
Hoping she'll try
To stop me from leaving.
Hoping I still mean
Something to her
But other matters toy with her mind distractedly.
Her next fix
Suffocates the ounce of love
She has left
For me
And I'm gone.

I want a glass of bubbles
To warm my icy throat
And thaw my tongue,
Which always seems to be too frozen
To say anything right.
And I want to chase the fire down
With your kisses.
I want my heart to slow down,
Just a little,
Enough to keep in time with my
Lazy thoughts of you.

I want to hear your voice
Like a velvet dress,
Clinging to my body
In whispers of never letting go.
And I want to feel cold again
While you go out for a smoke.

And I just want to watch you
As you tug on those **** sticks,
Looking like a kind of mystery
I could ponder over for years.

I want to watch the smoke come off your lips,
I think I’m learning to like the smell
Of your smoky clothes.
And suddenly I’m as addicted to you,
As you are to them.
And I’m jealous
Because I want to be your addiction
And suddenly I’m like a cigarette
And that’s weird.

Expectations swagger
And clutter.
Small talk
Loiters dangerously near big talk
As gazes dance between
Lazy freckles.

Questions are asked
That require too complicated
Of answers.
Answers too uncertain
And even once certain,
Limbs putrify and freeze
In the daunting path
That has been figured,
Fathomed, barely
And never traveled.

Habits, self inhibitions,
Self-destructive agendas,
Pull at the walker
As his own mind swivels,
Exhausted,
Tipping into madness.

He’s found the path
But finds self-provoked
Difficulty in walking it.