there are no surgeon general warnings
about boys with sunlight eyes and dark voices,
of boys who speak meaningless words and irrational sentences
in such a way that even the greatest philosopher
would secondguess himself.

with a voice that colours silence,
and a gaze like the moon lights the night sky,
his glare will turn your head into a meteorshower,
thoughts colliding, breaking, seperating.

it's his third cigarette, and smoke is clouding up the room,
he closes his eyes, exhales the nicotine carelessly,
leaning against the wall, so at peace,
and all you can do is happily drown,
your self-control more intoxicated than his lungs.

the blinds revealing whats left of the sunlight on white walls,
scattered light, faded patterns -faded thoughts
you love the sunset, but you can't take your eyes off of him.

cigarettes and cigars are labeled with warnings,
'may 'cause heart disease'
but they forget to label the boys that leave you breathless,
the boys that hold your heart in one hand, and a cigarette in another;
the boys the know the best way to set something on fire for pleasure.

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