You and me. Sitting on that lonely burn down building next door. We shouldn't be doing this. But we are. As you pull out your last pack of weed I smile, something I don't do very often. I take the pack and open it. I dump it in the trash can. You stare at me confused. I take out my pack of cigarettes, you smile and take one. Only you know that on special occasions I smoke cigarettes. Only you know my brother died because of a fire, caused by a cigarette. My tears flow gently. You pull me in your arms, but you're still smoking. I take the cigarette and throw it. I push you down and kiss you slowly. Tasting the burnt of the cigarette. The room becomes hotter. Its burning up, I know it, you don't. I feel guilty but I rather die than live like this, because I have daddy issues and baby you do too
I JUST WANT A ROMANCE LIKE THAT, SMOKING, SLEEPING, KISSING, AND DRINKING.