i'm running out of cigarettes from the pack you bought me
back when our spark was lit, when fate set us up so cruelly
and i said i’m running out of breath

they were lucky strikes, the mad men type, unfiltered
would it make sense otherwise?
isn't poison posing as poise still just as poisonous?

you always knew, my love--
--for cylinders. especially yours.
how fitting
i’d think,
that here i am with 21
of my favorite cylindrical things

for 21 months you asked for affection
for just as long you called me a savage  
so i'd caress your cheeks while telling you i love you--

--r beard and using my fingers to massage your head
and i love drowning you in my pillowed lips
as they secrete tender words and you savor as each one drips

you never knew, my love--
--for silver tongues like yours, how i fall hard but stop,
adding bricks to my thickening walls
i hate feeling soft as the pack of lucky strikes
so i smother you with the same pillows i'd used earlier to drench you
in tender words, just so i can detach my heart from your head

i know only savages make everything carnal, all skin, all flesh
still, glands of mine manage to seal your eyes shut as i run
with the rivers that pulsate your neck with my tongue

i have no problem being explicit, i'll scream your name  
i'll moan it as i vocalize my innermost physical thoughts
i mean it when my eyes roll back and i whimper you turn me on

still everyday, maybe two at most
you drive hours, hours for me...back and forth
to share with me how much you don’t want to share me
with anyone. but the prospect of falling for you when i can’t manage
falling for myself leaves me so anxious, so i distract you instead
by gazing into your eyes, using those pillows of mine to seal yours shut

all the while secretly wishing i was warm as your white wine
that i can always find whenever i dine on you because you pair it for me,
and you pour more on me means the more i whine for you when i feast

still, you insist, and say to me
the way you smoke and your cutthroat cheekbones
dimples and long fingers, wide smile and white teeth
i want you to feel me, i wanted you physically
but now i want everything you want to give to me
i want you to marry me...why won't your eyes gleam?

let me satisfy you just like you
do me
with an influx of dopamine

if i OD just promise you'll remember me, your love
for ******* the life out of me, promise me you're clear
on my wish to sleep on your pillows only

let me bow down right here, right now, all you need
is to look down and see the strongest muscle in me
in you
let me seal your eyes shut, but how come they gleam
only when your savagely eyes stare right through me

he was perfect, i was the luckiest
he handed me 20 cylinders and himself
for a total of the nicest 21 months in me

he embodied everything i’d dreamt of back when i dreamt nicely
but my body knows what to do better than my mind ever could
and that's why i said to him i'm running out of breath

and thats when you disappeared into smoke
burning my lungs like the 20 cylinders you’d given me
how can i explain that i was as cold as i was
to ensure you'd maintain every ounce of your warmth
for the next girl who fate chooses to set you up with
cruelty-free this time, without testing you like animals, no savagery

what do i do now?
do i preserve only the best memories,
as if you’re deceased?
or do i wait anxiously,
as if you’re fighting overseas,
hoping one day you'll run back safely to me?

i'm running out of breath, i'm losing my balance i can’t fathom
the thought of you using another for comfort
i wish i knew how to vocalize my innermost thoughts
and i wish i knew how to stop loving lucky strikes
that all eventually burn into ashy smoke
but i can’t

i wish i didn’t have to change cigarette brands
the day you stopped holding my frozen blue hands
i wish i'd never ran out of you
i wish i could still light
my 21st lucky strike

- end