Is the tip of your finger still scented cigarettes?
With the burn marks carved on your pointed nail?
The nicotine, in a nick of time, fumbles a bet
The smoke arson all your confetti in that little lungs

The cough hurl over an empty promise you claimed
Will our worried cat still purr the same near your name
Our beloved darling crying from the game you aimed
Empty bridges just to be crossed above the troubled flame

As your face flings from the warmth of my chest
You can’t no longer hear the heart beating to rest
Another bottle of poison you drank tailored you a vest
A heaven above the pillow and you chose the hell to nest