empty lines

decadent nourishment

Stale tobacco
tastes like the moment when your smile drops
like the cold chill down my back
of immediate regret

The warmth of your breath
heats my insides
more than the last swig
of a nearly empty bottle
ever could

No chemical can make my soul
vaporize from my pores
as quickly as the timbre of your voice
when it wades in and pushes me out