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Dec 2013
The embers died and I extinguished every burning flame with my breath
The fire inside me glowed so brightly I could not see,
and the flickering candle-lit lanterns of my eyes brimmed with water
and the roaring blaze inside me died
I inhaled smoke trying to reignite what once thrived
my nicotine lips smelt like ash and my heart was a burnt out cinder
I washed the smell of smoke from my fingertips
the same fingertips that fires used to lick and nibble,
caressing the skin that held a furnace within
Nothing but smoke and ash left inside me now
And blackened lungs from years of fueling the very object that would be my demise
I drowned in a flood created by my own weak self
it washed away my sins, yes, but I was made entirely of sins
and now I am a hollowed out shell of the bonfire I used to be
I was engulfed in a shower of tears that diminished the essence of my being
Now I am nothing but ash and cigarette smoke.
Georgia Marginson-Swart
Written by
Georgia Marginson-Swart  22/F/London
(22/F/London)   
569
   Kyle Benor and Eliot Greene
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