I want to chain smoke your lips and replace your ashtray with the burnt out cavities of my heart, already hardened by burnt blood and cracked with wretched afflictions. Please deconstruct my rips when your match box is empty, when you desperate to ignite a flickering flame on occasions that you misplace your lighter between the cushions of my couch. To preoccupied with tasting the traces of nicotine laced with desire beneath my tongue and evoking black moans that linger in the air like curling coughs of smoke..
YOU ARE READING
The Story Of A Teenage Dirtbag
شِعرThis is composed of all my writings, simple poetry that expresses how I feel
