(she reminded me of tv girl, when i used to look at her- stare at her in class.
i told her that, once.
she said she didn't know tv girl.
now, when i listen to tv girl
it reminds me of her.)
She's a silver-laced daydream, beaten gold and bloody by things we both know she didn't deserve.
She appears only to me, only at night.
in a hurry, in a haze.
I kept her a secret for a breath too long, so she slipped out from in between my fingers like cigarette smoke.
When my fingers are blue and my nose red, she smiles.
With that lovely smile she has.
I never told her how pretty she was.
She's a whirlwind of sorts; she leaves me breathless and messy when she passes by.
There's smoke in my lungs; two, three, four times.
I take another hit as we collide, like constellations do.
I said it was a one-time thing, she didn't believe me.
I didn't believe me either.
I remember the way she used to tuck her shirts, and the color of her shoes.
she always hung around her friends, made me wish she'd hang around me too.
My mouth tastes like smoke, it reminded me of her again.
But I haven't really seen her in months.
every time i hold a cigarette in between my fingers, makes me think of what could've been.
i stare at it for too long, until it burns me and i snap back to reality.
it doesn't really matter, though.
my dad's here, anyway.
Burning cigarette smoke that leaves my fucked-up-lungs makes me cough as I inhale again; throw the cigarette on the floor, and kick it away.
The smell sticks around on my fingertips.
It sticks to hers too, but she doesn't care.
She leaves it like that, making people complain.
I think I like it, though.
