How is it that your cigarette kisses
Are the sweetest I've ever had?
I'm always drawn to you.
My cynosure, you are.
Our dalliance is a thing of lust
But your hands' presence won't wash off.

When I brood here in my room,
All I can recall is your becoming face
And the way you lay, oh so comfortably.
Every entrapping thing you do seems so effortless
And I find it difficult to even kiss the thought
Of you having any trouble with eloquence.