Smoke coats the bottom of my lungs
to the walls of my throat
to the ceiling of my mind
clouding my resolve
But the heat of the ashes
is the only warmth between my fingers
since your hand left mine
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
Smoke coats the bottom of my lungs
to the walls of my throat
to the ceiling of my mind
clouding my resolve
But the heat of the ashes
is the only warmth between my fingers
since your hand left mine
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