Love is second hand smoke
Poison
Its greasy fingers grasping your lungs
Robbing you of every last breath….
But
You like it.

The last cigarette burning in my hand
I slowly inhale all the bad inside
It's burning my lungs and I hope
That my heart wil turn into ash too
What heart?
Touché

Take my heart,
****** your fingers through my chest -
let them reach. Rip, pull,
tear aside my weary flesh.
Scratch my decaying ribs,
rotten and weak.
Just a sharp, swift tug,
and they snap. Blood leaks,
as you pierce the arteries,
that keep my lungs captive -
chaining them within me,
so that they cannot rest, active
always, slaves to reflex.
Let them be free, at last
unbound, let them relax,
deflate, give up the air of past
days that took too long.
Toss them aside,
Useless and frail, taking
up space in your unrelenting hands,
they keep digging, though aching
and tired of brutality. Hatred
that once coursed through my veins,
now spilled and taken,
for your deathly gains.
Finally, unobstructed, a clear path
to my heart now drained
of life-giving blood is revealed.
Wrap your pale, blood-stained
fingers around it and pluck
the tendons 'till they break.
Grip more tightly, grab, clutch,
****** it from me, still and motionless.
Hold it up to the light, let me see
with my dead, hollow eyes
as you crush it in front of me.

Take my heart.

Crush my heart.

Take my brain.

Twist my mind.

Loving you feels a lot like drowning
My lungs constantly searching for the air you used to breath down my throat.
I don't know whether to inhale or hold my breath;
I guess it doesn't really matter, they both hurt the same.
I've been wondering what the easiest way to die would be.
I don't really care anymore, without you, I'm dead anyways.

Words spilled from my lungs until the day a boy kissed me.
The words were trapped inside as he pumped his own soul into mine.
I had lost all sense of what was mine.

When he left, he left like a stranger on a lonesome street.
I felt my lungs sticky and limp without use.
It **** so long before words began to pour out of me again.
I know what is mine.

now I realize why I smoke my cigarettes
because they taste like your mouth.
the nicotine courses through my veins
reminding me of your electric touch
making my body go numb
and my mind buzz.
these thoughts I can no longer ignore while inhaling the devil smoke into my charcoal lungs.
wishing I could forget how to inhale
because it only reminds me that
every breath is closer
to my last.