You were my cigar,
A very toxic one,
You were waiting to be lit.
I was your lighter,
I was hoping to see a flame.
We burned,
Intensely ,
Brightly.
But now all that's left is smoke.
YOU ARE READING
Culaccino
PoetryCulaccino~a mark left on a surface by the bottom of a wet glass. Last summer, You said you love me, You said you'll be there forever. Last summer, We held hands, We kissed. Now summer's gone, You too. If we ever see again, All I'll ever say is, Reme...
