One stormy autumn afternoon
A question was asked by my philosophy prof:
"Does life have a smell or taste?"
The girl in the back,
The one with the bruises,
Started laughing.
Must have been an inside joke.
"Life smells of ***** when you're sure
Your lover has left you."
Her voice was a rasp,
Probably nights of endless screaming.
"It tastes like blood and broken promises.
It's beautiful and poisonous,
Sugar and morphine rolled up in a joint
That we all smoke to die."
My prof asked the others for answers
But every time he tried to say whose was best
The thunder screamed its protest,
The lightning flashing and illuminating
The sad and broken shell
With her lover's name etched in her skin.