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Smoking

The sweet smell of raisins

fresh from the pack.

A lit cherry is a beating heart.

The wet end is as good

as kissed lips.

It makes my legs loose and

trembly like love.

Leaves me breathless and

achy.

Smoking scares you.

I smoke for inspiration,

the pains remind me I am alive,

and I'm not suppose to live forever.

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Written by
christopher-j-marsaglia
American
Published
Mar 7, 2010
Lines·Words
13·60
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