cigarettes;
you've always hated them yet somehow hopelessly resemble them. people use you, they take sips of you to get the taste of pain away from their tongues. they wrap their fingers around you as if you are their only ounce of hope left in the world – which you are, in fact. they inhale your scent in hopes of forgetting the death growing in their lungs; then they throw you away. they step on you and leave you gasping for air as if you didn't just save their life. here's the thing, even after leaving you, they come crawling back for more. and more and more with each passing second. they can't truly leave you even if they tried, for you leave them with black lungs, your face forever engraved in what keeps them alive. i always wondered why cigarettes were so addictive, not quite finding an answer until i finally met you.
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.
