his lungs filled with smoke, and my eyes filled with tears
he looks so cool with one resting on his ear
i like the way he smokes his dying cigarettes
i hate the way he always messes with my head
⠀⠀
with his hands on my throat, and his begging lips on mine
we'd both rather choke than pay for our crimes
yet down on my skin he spills his biggest regrets
i wish he would embrace my fears like that instead
⠀⠀
he inhales death, and exhales my lively pain
veins flooded with meth, he drives me insane
i was the first to admit that i'm reckless
i love the way he slowly kills but then forgets
⠀⠀
he looked just like an angel in disguise,
his little demons clearly sitting in his eyes
when the full moon rises his body fills with dread
still i watched him smile as his sorry brain bled
⠀⠀
all we ever wanted was to be the sky
but time doesn't heal, it just leaves me asking why
i like the way he smokes his dirty cigarettes
when things are dying, they're the prettiest
YOU ARE READING
as quiet as a fire
Poetryyou have my heart and mind in your hands now. i hope you have a safe trip. but read at your own risk, i can't promise you'll come out alive.
