once when i was seventeen i tried to buy cigarettes from the stop-n-save in the middle of the night
because the boy i loved
didn't love me any more
i wanted my mouth to taste like his, toxic, intoxicating
i wanted the stars to cloud out in the curls of smoke
the man behind the counter asked for my ID and i gave it to him and he said
sorry, sweetheart, i can't sell you those
and i said please my birthday is in a week
he looked at me like he knew how it felt and i said
please i'm dying for a smoke
he handed me back my license and said,
i'm sorry
and he really was.

Cigarettes are enticing
when they are inhaled between
the lips of a beautiful boy
with a perfectly crooked smile
and mysterious eyes.

But his smile is stained
with traces of nicotine,
and the puzzle in his eyes
is impossible to solve.

And when you kiss him,
you can taste the stale smoke
lingering on his breath;
the stale smoke that has filled his lungs
and left them black and tarred.

He says they’re nice
when you’re feeling numb.

So you take a drag
in hopes of filling your lungs;
filling your emptiness.
But it leaves you black and tarred
all the same.

**m.s.

Back then
I bought you some cigarettes.
you always craved another
Even after a few hours had passed.
The smoke dove into your body
And flew back out into the air
As your lovely lips
Set it free;
I was always so fascinated-
But I swore to myself
I'd never get into such a habit
Because I would hate to get addicted
To such a silly thing

Now
I no longer have someone
So alluring to observe;
I picked up my first cigarette,
brought it to my mouth
And held it the way you taught me to.
As I inhaled my strain
And released my tension with the smoke
I felt the hum of relief travel
From the top of my head
To the tips of my toes--
I had only held it once
And I knew I'd become addicted
To such a silly thing
much like the way I had gotten addicted
To you

isn't it silly


that i buy cigarettes

and smoke them
hoping to calm myself

(hoping to
forget about the
****
you put me through)



and realize that
I would rather
get hit


by a moving van

than to inhale

this

nasty

****.


I stomp it out

with
no regrets

She interlaced her fingers with his, as
limbs of oak trees extend in his ribcage.
Remembering when she demolished love.
An oblivion to him, his princess,
was far from true perfection. Her cruelty,
nearly tore his heart apart at the seams.
It was mangled and stitched with precaution.
Somehow he remained, knowing she was the
one he desired. She struggles every day
to influence his decision to stay.
Her lips hunger for the rough touch of his
and crave the feeling of butterflies that
multiply in her torso. He plants roots
in her shoes to ensure she won't run off
again. He dreams of her being his for
eternity. She's the nightmare he fears
will become extinct. Time will mend our love.

i found myself alone in my living room at ungodly hours of the night watching tv shows about politics and listening to poetry at the same time and trying not to say the wrong thing to tip off my friends that i want to **** myself because hey if i tell them then i can't do it and that's my problem. but then i started wonder why they're called ungodly hours. is it because god doesn't save anyone during these times? or did he just never save in the first place?

i found myself when i did not need to find myself in a higher power to find peace. how can you love someone else if you can't love yourself first? i spent an entire year researching and experimenting ways to "enlighten" myself (and i use that word lightly) and i think i finally found the way but when i introduced the idea of Buddhist meditation and chanting mantras of self healing and finding peace to my parents, my father told me i was tearing this family apart and "why can't you be normal?" and "this is not what our family believes in." and "what's wrong with the catholic church?" What's wrong with the catholic church is that i feel like a lesbian drug addict who needs massive amounts of alcohol to keep from killing herself whenever the priest looks at me, as if he can smell the gay on me like a dog who can sniff out a cancerous disease. What's wrong with the catholic church is that i feel like i'm stepping inside a political headquarters rather than praying to a god to help me not feel guilty about doing bad things and perhaps hoping he'll send something good my way even though i don't deserve it and i'm probably not going to heaven anyway because the bible told me that if i make love to another woman then i'm going to find a gathering of NHL hockey goalies in front of the pearly gates to keep me out. but my question is why people are so concerned with the sexuality of people that they aren't sleeping with, this was not the technical form of *** so i wasn't breaking two rules in one stone but i just "chose" the wrong sin. but hey, the devil said he's down to hang out with me as long as i don't mind the heat.

i found myself in the bed of a girl who always smelled like coconuts and had no respect except for herself and for me. she made me feel like i was at home even though i was miles away and didn't speak the language that well. i wanted to carve poems into the bones of her spine, she would never be able to see them but she would have the knowledge that they existed because her skin did. her existence ultimately created a contradiction for me, do i fall in love with a girl who could never love me back or am i able to stick to what my parents believe in but they'll never be happy with me anyway? i had to pick the lesser evils of the two, and she could never be evil to me. she could grab me by the throat, tell me to beg for mercy and i could reach out to shake death's hand and i would still want to kiss the fingertips the were wrapped around my neck. she could throw me down the flight of stairs and i'd still stare at her all the way down because if i were to die i want her to be the last thing i see. she could rip off my fingers at the knuckles and tie them around the christmas tree like the lights we use every year and i would still find ways to trace her body even more gently than before. she cannot cause harm to me as long as she is still within plane distance. as long as i don't have to give my life to see her again then i will always find myself in her. and even when we are dead and buried in the ground, i will swim to you like a mermaid of the soil just to be next to your bones.

i found myself when i started to get into fist fights with a god who forgot about me. i found myself when i started to call out death's bluffs, and death talked a lot of **** for a guy who couldn't follow through with anything. i found myself in the drugs and alcohol and my sudden stoppage of my use. i found myself in my yearning for death and drugs and alcohol but i found myself in my ability to say no because they only worsen my state of mind. And you only worsen me.