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The distorted feather of cigarette smoke trails upwards. It dances on the first wisp of wind; escaping the draw of cracked weasened lips. Lips formed of withered apple skin and stale coffee; of puckered mouth and deep inhales. Hunched shivering shoulders hoist a shaky hand toward the face. A raspy exhale releases another puff of smoky breath. The icy air exaggerates the capacity of old and tiring lungs. I foresee this rarely preempted fate. I quit!
0
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
-Wither-
The distorted feather of cigarette smoke trails upwards. It dances on the first wisp of wind; escaping the draw of cracked weasened lips. Lips formed of withered apple skin and stale coffee; of puckered mouth and deep inhales. Hunched shivering shoulders hoist a shaky hand toward the face. A raspy exhale releases another puff of smoky breath. The icy air exaggerates the capacity of old and tiring lungs. I foresee this rarely preempted fate. I quit!
AMPoetry
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
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