Roses and Cigarettes

With a crash of glass and the sound of a bullet
Echoes amass as you pull it
A string so our spirits hang
For smoke is what lifts you up
Swirls of grey around you gang
You do a small dance
Dancing around the shots
It all happens in one puff
You don't need another
For one is more than enough.
You start seeing red
Petals atop a bed
And aromas inside your head
The string is cut
You land with fret
Consumed by the cinder
The lit end
With one last drag
You place your bet
A bet of money, dreams, and old cassettes
You pay with wilted roses and burnt cigarettes.