Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2019
I trace my fingers
Through the cigarette smoke
That dances from your lips and
Creates a veil in the sunlight -
A moment of quiet, magical bliss
From your silent self destruction
Should have been indication
Of what was to come.
Courtney
Written by
Courtney  25/F
(25/F)   
  297
     --- and Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems