Wednesday, September 15, 2010

You Smoke the Same Brand As My Last

The man before you

Doesn’t count.

Shallowness showed

My feelings

Were no more than paper flowers

Crushed by the ice and snow.


Once the laughter left

his eyes,

I learned the depth of my devotion.

The lust I mixed with love

Flew quickly out the drain.


My body sagged

from the loss of false emotion.


Now I burn with scars

Of scruff and rough

Patches on my cheeks.

Still sagging,

now bruised too.


Menthol lingers

Filling my mouth

Tongue, teeth, and lips

With night’s secrets,

And I know.


You smoke the same brand

As my last.

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