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Alex Apples
Poems
Apr 2013
Smoking Gun
You stamp me out
like the **** of a cigar
vanilla swirled cumulus
fogs my throat
clouds my neural pathways.
I smolder and sputter
glow dimly red
only wishing for your lips
to breathe life
into me again.
I gasp, I wheeze
as you squash my heat
on the deck railing
wring out my last sparks
until finally
my light goes out.
Written by
Alex Apples
United States
(United States)
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