Recycled Lungs

Posted at: 6:27 am
Filed under : Life, Nonsense, Poetry

A black lighter torches my wrist. Call it happiness, on the edge of forbidden bliss. The heat inside my lungs is melting my heart. Fire time, and I’m melting down. Ash kiss the ground. Cigarette close to your lips now. Smoke it now. Now. We only live in now.

A clear ashtray holds my mystery and I feel alone. Your mischievous eyes are glistening. A tear falls down. Follow it. A salt residue for you to lick. Taste the effect. Touch my struggle and plant a tobacco kiss onto my lungs. Travel and find my heart deep, deep into my lock down.

I’m locked down.

Four walls surround me. Darkness inside of me. A lighter is all you really need. A cigarette is all I speak. The smell of togetherness is lingering. Dark black eyes. Scratch. Itch. Pitch black heart. Your lighter is out of gasoline now.

Look at the red line of silence on your neck now. I form things. Listen to the beating in my heart beat too quick. Passionate pain, I died in silence and I lived.

In a dream now. Resting my forehead on your warm chest. Put out your cigarette bud onto my skin. I ask you please. I really don’t feel a thing. I just feel black. And your silent, and I have a secret to keep now. I’m addicted you know. I wish I could recycle your lungs as you hold me. Instead, I will paint this scene.

Yesterday, I recycled your lungs.

And it was beautiful touching your heart.

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