Poetry and Nicotine
Dull eyes on Amphetamine
Cold hands and colder heart
Build me up, I’ll fall apart

They’d waited too long to say

“I love you”.

3 words. 3 syllables.

Yet they held millions of emotions unspoken.

and now that they’d done it, they wouldn’t,
couldn’t, stop

they told each other all the time, at the end of the argument
and before the good news.

In the middle of the storm, even though it was hard to see, and after, when the raging winds had settled on a breeze

before the rising sun turned the sky pretty colors and after it flickered out and faded away into the dark

Underneath the stars that their love had been etched into

There was no love until death for them, because it would never stop

I love you beyond

The light in my eyes
Is but a reflection
Of the fire
in your soul.

Please
try not to burn me...

all the senses individual
and collective
go to make a Universe
aware of itself.

i cant afford the therapy i need
so i take another drag
of stolen cigarettes and lips
that have no business near
my sharp tongue.
last year felt like you and i
were the only 2 alive.
this year i wish i could die
on command

Lavender candles and dopesmoke evenings.
Quiet enough to enjoy,
not so quiet as to shatter my high.
I light another joint and begin to read your poems.
I still don't understand, really,
but I never expect to.
When I'm done I fall into the mirror.
It breaks, cuts my finger.
My own blood runs.
This I can relate to.