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Her puffed pink lips wrapped around the **** of her freshly lit cigarette, hollowing her cheeks and sinking her eyes as if death breathed her in and exhaled her out as the smoke billowed out her nose like an early 1950’s ad for Camel. Her blue eyes were never opened all they way, the black lashes heavy from the piling layers of mascara she never washed off and under-eyes caked with a yellow-orange tint that sat deep into her sinking wrinkles, but the way her painted lips kissed that cigarette made my heart yearn for a faster beat. In and out, death bathed in her every breath until nothing but the brown paper, stamped with her lipstick, remained. Her two fingers opened, the cigarette still coughing up smoke as the toe of her battered converse pressed it against the earth. She waits a moment, looking out into the busy streets of the city, until the itching of her fingers is too much and she leans into her bag to pull out another one. Through her heavy lashes, peaking over the basin under her eyes, between the strands of her golden bangs shown two bloodshot ponds that swallowed me whole. The voice that snaked from her lips enticed me, it sounded shattered and homely, rough and soothing, as she leaned in and whispered “Got a light?"
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Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Smoked
Her puffed pink lips wrapped around the **** of her freshly lit cigarette, hollowing her cheeks and sinking her eyes as if death breathed her in and exhaled her out as the smoke billowed out her nose like an early 1950’s ad for Camel. Her blue eyes were never opened all they way, the black lashes heavy from the piling layers of mascara she never washed off and under-eyes caked with a yellow-orange tint that sat deep into her sinking wrinkles, but the way her painted lips kissed that cigarette made my heart yearn for a faster beat. In and out, death bathed in her every breath until nothing but the brown paper, stamped with her lipstick, remained. Her two fingers opened, the cigarette still coughing up smoke as the toe of her battered converse pressed it against the earth. She waits a moment, looking out into the busy streets of the city, until the itching of her fingers is too much and she leans into her bag to pull out another one. Through her heavy lashes, peaking over the basin under her eyes, between the strands of her golden bangs shown two bloodshot ponds that swallowed me whole. The voice that snaked from her lips enticed me, it sounded shattered and homely, rough and soothing, as she leaned in and whispered “Got a light?"
"Smoking has such a beautiful artistic sense" ~Lindsey Bost
c-e-smith
Written by
American
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
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