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Tom Lengel Nov 2017
it's poetic, i think, how the
burning of cigarettes
creates a subtle glow at nightfall.

every inhale, the light burns brighter.
a smoker will
hold
the smoke for a second or two and then
release it to the sky.

habitual and addictive, just so, is
living yesterday when today is
bleak,
self-inebriation by clinging to things that once made you happy
instead of

releasing

and taking a new breath.
it's just a subtle glow,
on and
off,
beautiful, but not meant to last.
a new beginning
jinx Nov 2017
my ex-lovers mouth is not a
place I'm proud of lurking
drowned in alcohol and cigarettes
he said
were from all the stress of working
remind me again why you liked me? it was faulty at best
parie Nov 2017
skies, that are the color
of the water left behind,
after doing the dishes.

clouds, that are so hope-
lessly pathetic. they hang
there; kinda doing their own
thing.

kisses, that are so full of
passion, and fill the space
of a thousand words.
no grief. just understanding.
understanding that makes your
lips sore.

raincoats, that look poetic.
unbuttoned, and collars flapping
limply. rainy days do no justice.
red raincoats, and dreams of
naughtiness.

cigarettes, smoked to the end.
an orange flame, in the darkness.
leaning against the wall; a careful
posture that's been practiced, and
eventually mastered.

roses, with thorns cut off
with a pair of kitchen scissors.
shaking hands, and nervous smiles.

poetry written on napkins, delivered
with blatant awkwardness. a messy scrawl
with black biro; words that say much more
than a mouth could.
i'm just raging poetic, i guess.
Dakota Nov 2017
i toy with the idea of
buying a bus ticket to
somewhere on the west coast
to a place i would be new to
to a place where i could be
as invisible as i like
i don’t know what
is stopping me from
being a burlesque dancer in
Portland but I keep spending
my money on cigarettes and
**** and all i do is
smoke and cry and love
and i need to get out
of this house that has become
such a miserable place to be
such a miserable place to live
but when it comes down to
it i’m more likely to
**** myself than flee
the title was given to me as a prompt
Mila Berlioz Nov 2017
He’s so mad,
But I love him so bad.
I can’t help but to feel so sad.
Tap, tap, tap, my cigarettes pack goes.
Beat, beat, beat, my heart beats for him.
What else can I do, when we aren’t near?
Knock, knock, knock. I knock on his door.
He opens the door, I love him so much.
Can YOU love me madly?
Mosh Microbiomes Nov 2017
Wish I was younger
In the thick of my stupidity  
Blindly gulping adrenaline
Now garbed in sour rigidity

It's just not nostalgia, its angst
It's just one cigarette, no stress
I'm better than this, my friends know
But can't ask them, they're unknown

People leave, yes I've been told
I'm no better. An island & me, I'm sold
And I rock myself to bed at night
And I kick my mind to be alright

But the sand is slipping faster now
The moonshine itching loud and how
And after all, I am still an imbecile
Ranting about love but a little less cynical
morgan Nov 2017
and since my dreams are ***** and cigarettes
i taste like rotting butterscotch
growing older
Zero Nine Nov 2017
I was told to never
light a cigarette
I did

He died and I
watched him
******* leave
me, nothing to be done

Lifeless and gray,
drained by day,
during his last week

Prey to the image
of the epitome of
masculinity

Cool, cool shades
Cool, cool leather
Jacket & boots

What do you want to be when you grow up?
One massive, tumescent lump
you'd think, seeing him turned to dust
would be enough, but you'd be wrong
Sarah Xander Oct 2017
She was 25 years young.
and beautiful

beautifulˈbjuːtɪfʊl,ˈbjuːtɪf(ə)l/
adjective
pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically.“beautiful poetry" synonyms: attractive, pretty, handsome, good-looking, nice-looking, pleasing, alluring, prepossessing, as pretty as a picture; More of a very high standard; excellent." he spoke in beautiful English”

She made everything feel temporary
my problems
my fears
my thoughts
my love
She was just amazing, wonderful even
She had dark, tousled hair, and the most beautiful eyes; I got lost in them every chance I got
They were brown eyes, but **** they were mesmerizing
They would glow in the light and I couldn’t help but fall into them
She had the most Delphic and inimitable tattoos that I’ve ever seen on one single person, they decorated her porcelain skin perfectly and poetically.
I liked times where we would just lay, with our feet tangled together and I would trace one of the tattoos and she would reminisce about it and the experiences she had during that time in her life.
Her knowledge amazed me, she always kept me on the edge of my seat with her stories
Her voice was one of the things that captured me, her melodies and her lyrics. She knew I loved jazz, we would go to record shops and we would scope for the good ones and at times I would stop to look over at her and she’ll be staring at me. I complained but god knows I loved it. I loved her.
I loved the times when she would walk over to the single window in the cheap motel that we stayed the night or two at, and she would light a cigarette and scold me for being around the smoke; but she would cave and hold it up to my lips and she would look me in the eye as I cough the smoke up.
Those were the time I loved
They were the times I lived for

She would always tell me to not love her
That she wasn’t worth my innocent and tender love
But I disagreed
Time and time again
She was everything I wanted but didn’t ******* deserve
But what significance are all these words coming from a sixteen-year-old, who is now learning and experiencing life?
It was bound to end.
Galbraith Frase Oct 2017
"Annie, can you get me another box?"

Anastasia's Mother sneers, finishing her last stick. Sure she heard it, that's why she's running up the stairs to their old town house's roofs.

There, she saw the Mother of her life, stood moderately at the edge. Although her Mom looked homeless, with messy hair and wearing cheap clothes, Anastasia still thinks she's beautiful. From her Mother's pale and dark shaded lips, the picture of her habitual smoking and to the bags of her eyes. Anastasia saw sorrow and humiliation.

"Another box? But isn't that the third one this week?" She questioned. The concerned girl stared at her wasted Mother who just huffed at the moment.

"Just do it, baby." Her Mother commanded. A sigh escaping from Anastasia's mouth as she nodded in full obedience.

"Alright, Mother."

She walked down the steps again, reaching out for money from her own wallet as she headed out.

The wind is pretty frisky this day. The cold air fogging up the populated skies as its getting darker in the entry of the night. The breezy air is tugging at her skin, hugging her petite body. She doesn't have any thick clothing or a layer, nor a jacket to support her now shivering body.

She went to quickened her walking, knowing that her Mother won't be staying up the roofs sooner and the cold air is truly bothering her.

Finally arriving at her station, she entered the shop and she went straight to the counter.

"A box of Marlboro reds, please." Anastasia half smiled, waiting for the counter guy to get one. Once handed, she waited for her change as a boy around her age went beside her.

"A pack of Camel light, please." The boy with raven locks said.

"One-second sir."

She stays patient. She went to look at the boy beside her again, only seeing him looking at her box then to her. She decided to brush it off as her change is handed to her. Anastasia exited the shop to only find that the skies had turned darker.

She turned her heels to the same path to their home as she went straight back to the house.

■ ■

"Don't tell him a single detail about me." Anastasia's Mother said sternly.

"I'll see you soon, Mother." She replied. As soon as she has the chance to leave, she quickly did.

Walking out the door, she pulls a cigarette out from a pack that she got from her Mother's. She calmly lights it up, though she makes sure that she's going to the right path to the Boat Station.

That night, last night, her Father called. Her Father told her to come by the Ocean. She loves things like this, admiring beautiful places at peace and just having deep thoughts about randoms.

Since both of her parents are divorced, Anastasia has to spend her time separately with them. Although her family background is broken, she still believes that quality time is important. Especially when you're the only daughter.

When she arrives, she saw a bunch of males hopped to a Downeast cruiser. She went for another stick of cigarette as she waits for the guys to settle the boat.

Once finished, she sees her Father coming towards her as another man followed him. Seeing her Father smile, she knows that he is happy to see her, happy that her daughter finally visited him again.

"My dear, sunshine." Her Father greeted with the widest smile ever. As they both embrace each other, she reassembles herself and stared to her Father's features.

He didn't change much. Twenty percent of his beard had grown, his skin also went tanner and his noticeable bags underneath his grey eyes is an evidence that he has been working hard these days.

And she felt her heart spun a bit, it's not breaking but it's pinching with joy.

"I've missed you, Father." She spoke, voice cracking and eyes glistening.

Her Father went to cup his daughter's cheeks with both hands and smiled. She felt the warmth and the love to her one and only man, and that is her Dad.

"My apologies. Anastasia, this is Captain Adamson, he's our new lead sailor." Her Father added as he introduced the man beside him.

"Please to meet you, young lady."

"You too, Sir."

She looked up to Captain Adamson, he has the same features like her Father's. Same dry skin, oceanic eyes, firm and sturdy smile and just a typical sailor could be.

After a little talk, Captain Adamson and her Dad motioned her to get to the boat. Once lifted and settled, she saw old men and only men in the small place. She counted them, and in her calculations, they're about six or seven. But something spotted her eye...

A young boy, around her age probably, is one of the sailors. It surprises her a bit because she once thought earlier, she was the only youngster around here. But yet, she's wrong, but was she glad?

Feeling their boat move, she went over the edge as she let her body sway from her moving grounds. It was sure such a wonderful relief when they finally made it to the water.

She went to ignore the people around her as she decided to be alone at this moment.

At the edge, she swam through her thoughts. Deep ones like the ocean whom about twelve feet fall.

She thinks that what if the ocean is harmful, a violence and tolerant to other people. Like when you fall, you have nothing to do but to drown through the steep and heavy surface. Although its water, she can still think its a huge burden to anyone's bodies.

Her fears hugged her, her anxiety embraced her as she thinks of this. It made her shiver, not just from the wind but also to the awful life she has. It made her cringe once, now she'll cringe forever.

Grabbing another stick from the box, lighting it up as she blows one. She let the tobacco smoke combines with the coastal air, she watches it and she somehow feels satisfied.

Tapping her right shoe in a tune, she also hummed the unspoken lyrics, feeling the rhythm. She sips and blows, sips and blows, again and again. It doesn't seem to end, though her Father has its rules. Nothing she heavily worries about because she knew its always a mild segment.

After the stick has reached its filter, she flickers the used cigarette from the running waters as she lets out a sigh.

Casting a shadow beside her, she sees the youngster staring at her with an unexplainable look. He eyes her up and down in a respectful way as Annie didn't make a single move.

"You know, a filter can destroy the ocean too." The boy speaks. Anastasia shrugged her shoulders as she grabs another stick.

"So." She coldly said, though the boy sort of expected this coming.

"So its trash, it's not good." She rolled her eyes to the boy. A silly conversation about Nature isn't the right mood for the day today.

"Nope. I am trash." She chuckled like she's some kind of a joker telling puns whenever.

"I like that, Miss. My name's Keith Adamson, the--

"The Captain's son, I get it." She finished the boy's statement as a small smile form on her face.

"You do?" He questioned, playing it all in.

"Yeah, that's why you're so talkative about the waters." She shrugged again.

"Right, but I'm sure I've seen you before." The boy guessed and it clicked her head quickly.

"From the convenient store?" She grinned, making Keith nod in agreement.

There was a moment of silence in between them, did she care nor did she thinks its awkward? No. She went to lift her box from her pocket and motioned the youngster beside her. In her surprise, he gladly took one as she offers a lighter.

"So, Daddy sailor business?" Keith asks, giving Annie a small nudge.

"Not really, are you often around here?"

"You can say that. But why did you come here?"

"I don't think you deserve to know."

Anastasia's smile turned into a smirk, feeling her words with power. What does she call it? Sarcasm? Probably, but therefore, it's just the based truth.

"Feisty. Just so you know, I only come here to help my Father. Sailing ***** but I enjoy the ocean, a lot." Keith babbled as it made her nod her head.

"Me too, but not when you're in it." Her voice went weak as she feels her whole body become numb.

Heavy.

Heavy.

Just heavy, all are heavy.

"What do you mean?" The boy asked again. She knew she wanted to tell him but she respects her own privacy. Maybe she can, in a more intellectual way.

"Like the waves, they're a big struggle in a person's body. When you drown, you drown, why keep convincing yourself to dive up when you know its already too late?"

At this moment, she thinks about her Mother, her Father, and just the tree family she used to be in. The happy, normal and complete people, she misses that. Their silly moments and the happy memories, she wants it all back. Now that its ruined, damaged, broken, well name it. She still thinks she's contented. Why? Whatever god knows why.

"The waters are so much sweeter if the waves wouldn't step further like a hurricane, you know?" She smiled again. She then turned to her right, she sees her new friend with a confused expression.

"Wow, too deep to understand aye."

The both of them started laughing. At some thoughts, she's glad that she met Keith. He's so much more, She thinks he's more of a something.

"Everyone, get ready to sail!" A sailor's voice rung around the companied boat as they both of them got alarmed.

"Ready to fight the waves, Anastasia?"

"How'd you know my name, little sailor boy?"

Anastasia is not surprised that Keith knew her name. Many conclusions collided to her head but one resulted among them all.

"May I point whom your Father is?"

Without second thoughts, she nods her head. And she knows for sure, that she's ready to fight the waves.
Just a short story telling :)

[ Wattpad: @galbraithfrase ]
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