The smell of smoke lingers in the air,
It's on her clothes,
It's in her hair.
With each cigarette that gets lit,
Every breath that gets exhaled,
The smell of smoke lingers in the air.
Lingering and mingling with breathable air,
Nowhere to escape,
It's on her clothes.
She turns around and tries to hide,
Scurrying frantically to get away,
It's in her hair.
YOU ARE READING
K47 Poetry Book
PoetryJust.. All of my poems. Put into one place where I can share them without typing them up constantly. Please don't copy any of these, as I worked hard on them. Thank you. Note: If there is a writing where the title has asterisks (*) around it, READ A...
