More than a few years ago
I hid my mind, and have long since
forgotten where I had put it.
I sat on my softpack and I felt
remorseful pity, because
it really crushed my cigarettes.
And I felt such sympathy for them,
so unable to be used.
Then she stood up and held out her
hand, and I gratefully took the
burning smoke from her fingers.
As I exhaled she grew a beautiful blue
halo of twirling, swirling, tinct
smoke rings.
'My death angel,'
thought I.
Then I ashed it too hard
on the brim of
the ashtray.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
More than a few years ago
I hid my mind, and have long since
forgotten where I had put it.
I sat on my softpack and I felt
remorseful pity, because
it really crushed my cigarettes.
And I felt such sympathy for them,
so unable to be used.
Then she stood up and held out her
hand, and I gratefully took the
burning smoke from her fingers.
As I exhaled she grew a beautiful blue
halo of twirling, swirling, tinct
smoke rings.
'My death angel,'
thought I.
Then I ashed it too hard
on the brim of
the ashtray.
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