I fell in love with the way he flicked
a cigarette and tasted death between his lips at midnight
And took an immense amount of comfort in the fact that his tongue tasted like black coffee and vanilla
and when he smiled I felt like maybe
I wasn't as lost as I believed to be
And every ounce of me despised smoking and pumping the only lungs you would ever get full of nothing but negative years and future tears that would streak the cheeks of everyone you never knew loved you
but ****, there was something so beautifully intoxicating about the way
you cursed gods name
and gently gripped another cigarette between your finger tips
And your eyes were tired but they screamed of stories left untold
like how you died before you were ever even born
and I think that's when I first knew that your heart would never beat quite right,
it would always be half way torn.