Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
(or why start smoking in your late thirties) a confession. the w h i t e paper thin, c r i s p against tips of fingers with the t h i n n e s t lines of gold the burnt umber to the brown to the beige to the white to the black black black i n h a l e suddenly i'm alive i know because i can feel something (anything) then the e x h a l e each cycle a moment suspended in time the wisps of smoke transient unique and finally the smell an a n c h o r. not what you expected?
0
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
hey, dummy!
(or why start smoking in your late thirties) a confession. the w h i t e paper thin, c r i s p against tips of fingers with the t h i n n e s t lines of gold the burnt umber to the brown to the beige to the white to the black black black i n h a l e suddenly i'm alive i know because i can feel something (anything) then the e x h a l e each cycle a moment suspended in time the wisps of smoke transient unique and finally the smell an a n c h o r. not what you expected?
ama21
Written by
46/F/American
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem