I don't smoke
I'm already addicted
to something else;
a person.
my boy
with dark chocolate eyes
and feather light lips
that trace my body
to make me forget
all of my sins,
and all of his.
it's hard to ignore
the goosebumps that rise
when I kiss his neck
and in-between kisses,
with candy-like tongue
I come up for air
and inhale his whispers
and his mellifluous words.
my tainted lungs,
my sweet addiction.