just a smoke
to welcome the sense of anticipated detoriation
I want to take in a bit of it
then let out my repent
of other things, I regret
the past tense.
he might cry,
if affection is around,
it is so devastating
I do not want to see
in advance,
I smoke this misery
in formulations of tar, nicotine, paper.
will not even break out
and think
that this is his flare
no this is mine
so I close my eyes if required
because I need some kind of a guard
to watch for me
when I smoke
and it is all too evident that
I have come to terms
with the ends
in the future,
i will fake trust
sneak out when he cries,
pretend he is just a man.
celine charcoal
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/smoke-12/
