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lolita May 2015
my fingers burn
as I write about
the flames of
our touch

the obscure
moments when
your hand would
search mine
in the velvet sheets

and how when
the sweet
trails of acrid
smokes rings
filled our lungs

we'd cough out
falsified words
that filled our
guts like tar

consuming skin
and kisses like
the cigarette you
reach for daily

an addiction
that is hard
near impossible
to quit

— The End —