He smoke cigarettes,
not to make it look cool,
but to fade the pleasure of sins.
Sins that were made in heaven..
Heaven that belonged to a girl..
A girl with buttery skin and crystal eyes..
Eyes that never speak for lies..
Lies about love, lies about deceit..
But deceit is what he repeatedly received.
To let it go,
to make the effort not letting the past steal his present,
the past that he wants to forget,
and forget how her voice sounded,
to learn the lesson in a bitter way.
He smokes cigarettes.
I don't write fancy words. I write what's on my mind. I try to relate it with reality. But it doesn't mean I don't like other artistic fascinating poems. Everyone has their own way and every way is beautiful.
Hope you would like it. :)