Oh, how I wish to replace the white filter,

Pressed, firmly, between your lips,

As your gentle hands craft the last cigarette of the day.


To be stained by the dark shade of your cheap lipstick,

If I am lucky, you will hold me too tight,

For just a moment too long.

The moisture will crack your skin with indignant purpose,

So I can steal a drop of your crimson blood,

To taint my snowy white complexion.


Though it will only be a moment,

Before you cast me aside,

I will remain sane,

In the knowledge that,

For one brief second,

As you dragged the nicotine deep into your lungs,



That fleeting instant of ecstasy,

Belonged to me.

blowing smoke out of
my window
and talking
to the cats
that roam around
my backyard
all night;

I want to quit
smoking
and I hate
******* cats,
but

this moment

is a tiny piece
of heaven-
stationary,

as the absurd
spins,
and keeps
spinning.

I’m sitting on the walkway, smoking a cigarette, watching the stars; thinking of you. I’m reminiscent of when we laid out here doing the same exact thing, except a prolonged addition of past drunken ramblings that resonate with me now. I miss your voice, and the way your laugh sounded beside me. I miss knowing I could turn to you in the same room. I guess I just miss you tonight. I’ll keep this with myself, but I want myself to remember that I missed you yesterday, I miss you now, and I’ll miss you tomorrow.

nothing like
cigarettes
and skin care
in the morning

Like a small cigarette
Your touch wraps around me
The dream fever sets in and I awake
In a trance I lept from my skins
To fall is to never sink
Ease and tension simulataniously working as one
An emotion of heartache and peace
I fear I may never leave your side
Even in miles of distance there is the connection
The maps of stria
The leaflets of lonely-togetherness
All words fall short
Though those eyes have spoken
They imprint themselves onto my soul
Devotion in absolute
I will be yours once I am not