The first inhale said, You should be wearing sunglasses at night.
The second said, You are not in love, but someone is in love with you.
The third said, You are dangerous in all the right ways.

I exhaled and saw my future
in the glow of the streetlights.
It was dark.
It was mysterious.
It was doomed.

I smoked the whole thing.
I am now in a different emotional tax bracket.

And suddenly,
I understood
why the femme fatale
never makes it out alive.