Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 19
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.
Written by
Courtney  23/F
     --- and Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems