you were choking on
your last cigarette
trying to convince me
(theatrically)
that tonight was going
to be the last time
we'd see each other
in this soft moonlight
and you seemed to
think that I liked
the taste of your
rat-poisoned lips.
YOU ARE READING
Academy Of American Bullshit
PoetryCollection of poetry, parts of short stories, and the occasional rant written by an artist who is angrier than she'd like to admit.
