They were good to me; too good
I wanted them; too much
I was addicted to them
Her mother was a breath of smoke
her gentle grey curls sooth me whenever we met
she surrounded me with sense of comfort, a sense of belonging
I needed her, and she knew I needed her
Her father was the tobacco
his presence left a sweet taste in my mouth
he was always there for me; he never left me
I craved him, and he knew I craved him
She was the cigarette connecting me to them
She drew me in with her charm
her sleek, slender, beautiful body making me want her
I could hold her, and she wanted me to hold her
I knew my fate
I had seen relatives go and never come back
crumbled, destroyed never to be desired again
broken in half, forgotten, hated ridiculed, blamed
I knew my fate, but I didn’t care
They were good to me; too good
I wanted them; too much
I was addicted to them
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
They were good to me; too good
I wanted them; too much
I was addicted to them
Her mother was a breath of smoke
her gentle grey curls sooth me whenever we met
she surrounded me with sense of comfort, a sense of belonging
I needed her, and she knew I needed her
Her father was the tobacco
his presence left a sweet taste in my mouth
he was always there for me; he never left me
I craved him, and he knew I craved him
She was the cigarette connecting me to them
She drew me in with her charm
her sleek, slender, beautiful body making me want her
I could hold her, and she wanted me to hold her
I knew my fate
I had seen relatives go and never come back
crumbled, destroyed never to be desired again
broken in half, forgotten, hated ridiculed, blamed
I knew my fate, but I didn’t care
They were good to me; too good
I wanted them; too much
I was addicted to them