the poor boy
looked like he loved
kissing the ash tray
he smelt of cigarettes
& the crisp air of the
night sky
but the girl who stood
next to him
smelt like the safe warmth
of his addiction.
—b.
YOU ARE READING
THE MOON WEEPS
Poetrypoetry // prose ( trigger warning. blood / suicide mentions & death hints ) [ ranked 8th in deep thinking 31/5/21 ] [ ranked 19 in poetry collection 13/6/21 ] [ ranked 101 in poetry 7/6/21 ]
