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WickedHope Jan 2015
the rim of your beer can
tastes like your stale cigarettes
I don't know... It happened, so I wrote it.
Love is second hand smoke
Poison
Its greasy fingers grasping your lungs
Robbing you of every last breath….
But
You like it.
This is just an excerpt from a poem that I've been working on reecently.

— The End —