Never believe a girl with a yellow smile and misleading intentions,
As she presses her tabaco stained lips against your skin she releases a depressive buzz paralyzing your thoughts
Inhaled smoke filling the empty space a heart is to rest while her melancholic warmth hugs your body and chars your throat
She can see the pain gleaming from your eyes and yet still continues to kiss your stomach into knots
The truth finally rolling off the tounge
Or was it that she couldn't stand the bitter after taste?
Good thing you left before you became her second hand smoke
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 10:21 PM UTC
Never believe a girl with a yellow smile and misleading intentions,
As she presses her tabaco stained lips against your skin she releases a depressive buzz paralyzing your thoughts
Inhaled smoke filling the empty space a heart is to rest while her melancholic warmth hugs your body and chars your throat
She can see the pain gleaming from your eyes and yet still continues to kiss your stomach into knots
The truth finally rolling off the tounge
Or was it that she couldn't stand the bitter after taste?
Good thing you left before you became her second hand smoke
I've written more poems about you than Emily Dickinson wrote for her never, ever, lover.
