A wisp of floating smoke
Is carried blindly into my lungs
And embraced warmly
By the clammy bruised hands
Of a girl I no longer really know;
A girl whose chapped lips reek
Of two-year-old chap stick
And the ephemerally tattooed
Moments of mine
But then I exhale
And the smoke dances up to light
From the almost new moon
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
A wisp of floating smoke
Is carried blindly into my lungs
And embraced warmly
By the clammy bruised hands
Of a girl I no longer really know;
A girl whose chapped lips reek
Of two-year-old chap stick
And the ephemerally tattooed
Moments of mine
But then I exhale
And the smoke dances up to light
From the almost new moon
Request permission to use this poem