#marlboro
Having you in my arms
Alongside marlboro lights on my lips
Under the moonlight
You looks like an angel
Without wings on your back
Anyway you look more beautiful
When you smile along with your tongue
Between teeth
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 6:32 AM UTC
My girl is a cigarette
She’s a Lucky Strike
She won’t last me through the night
No matter how hard I draw on the conversation
I can’t spark her imagination
There’s nothing I can say
To make her a **** in my ashtray
Aug 27, 2020
Aug 27, 2020 at 9:57 PM UTC
My first love was like my first whiff of a cigarette --
Strong. Overwhelming. Suffocating.
(It was a stick of Marlboro Red if anyone's asking)
Was it too much for someone
who's never smoked or loved in their entire life?
Perhaps. Yet, there I was -- willing to fall forward,
into the abyss of the novelty of it all.
And I did.
Fall -- with the click of the lighter.
Falling -- with each inhale.
Fallen -- with each exhale.
It's been days, weeks, months, years.
I've had lighter cigarettes, flavored love,
and I still get overwhelmed and choke
and tear up even at the first whiff.
But I guess, that's where the charm is.
Not with the ashes that fall to my feet,
but the delicate pressure of lips,
the heat it holds hands with.
The beauty lies in going through the motions.
May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 8:51 AM UTC
Our love, a match
You, a Marlboro evening
We share every warm sunset.
I'm not sure when we'll finally burn out but at least I'll have the ashes to prove that we really, really, did try.
You, a lighter, ignite my flame
let the sparks never die.
After all this time still wishing and wishing upon shooting stars for you
my one true love.
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 4:33 PM UTC
Cigarette **** kisses my lips
In smoke's touch
I feel relaxed
You're the match
Lighting up my vice
Killing me softly
Inhale your toxicity
Exhale the life out of me
I loved it.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
i've been searching for a feeling
and oh, what a feeling
a kiss that will taste like Marlboro Gold and Captain Morgan at 2 in the morning
a touch that will feel like red silk on my skin
a voice that sounds like my favorite song
something, anything that will make my heart feel full
make my stomach get butterflies
make my head spin in a whirl
but i cant even smoke a cigarette without longing for you
i cant take a shot of whiskey without thinking of you
i cant listen to my favorite song without reaching out for you
and all i want is a ******* Marlboro Gold
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
you knew i hated cigarettes,
so you started smoking a pack a day.
eleven minutes of life
being stolen with each stick.
you were always afraid of commitment,
but don't you know?
death prefers long-term relationships.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
the burning tip of your half-smoked cigarette
is the light at the end of my dark tunnel
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
you smelt of
nicotine and wild dreams
tapping your feet
to the music inside your head
that no one else could hear
& as you put away your box of cigarettes
i couldn't help but wonder
what it would be like
for you to be more addicted to me
than to your marlboros
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
Tap tap tap
goes her hand as she
rattles her box of cigs,
packing 'em in before
she hungrily rips off the
cellophane.
Her eyes lustfully stare
at the untouched pack
as she contemplates how it will
taste to put one in her mouth.
Although the Surgeon General
has adequately warned her otherwise,
she slides her fingers around
her chosen poison,
eagerly putting it to her lips.
The lighter clicks, and flames
quickly lap up the tobacco and its
chemical casing.
She inhales, and the raggedy breath
reverberates in her chest,
a sick pleasentness seeping into her veins.
Nothing has ever
felt better, as blood rushes
to her head and her muscles relax.
She lights up one after another
until the pack is gone,
and the cycle begins again;
an inner debate where her head
tells her to leave the addiction behind,
but her heart and body, starting to feel
lonely and withdrawn, insist on another
pack to dull the creeping emptiness.
So back to the corner store she goes,
as he waits behind the counter,
ready to give her another taste of feigned and
unhealthy comfort,
for it's better than being alone,
sober,
and without him.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
“I want to buy a pack of Marlboro reds and smoke them one by one.
Twenty little friends to calm my nerves.
Twenty times I’ll count which memories I’m burning away.
I’m dizzy from the nicotine, but thinking more clearly now.
There’s a sick satisfaction
in killing yourself slowly.
I want to understand the songs
about needing a smoke.”
1:34 p.m, Monday, March 9, 2015
- j.d
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
The smell of *** lingers
on my damp skin
as I sit silently on the porch,
watching as the ashes of the
burning cigarette in my hand
disappear into the wind.
I take another drag,
the smoke veiling
my face as I exhale.
I discard the spent Marlboro
and continue to stare into
the indecipherable blackness.
It is during times like this
I become inherently aware
of how alone I really am.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
I keep my ibuprofen in a Marlboro box
hidden deep beneath the pages of books that ever so kindly let the time pass by.
I take my ibuprofen two at a time
because they always used to tell me “good things come in twos..”
I guess that was true before I met you.
I swallow my ibuprofen with anything I can find because substances like this are highly divine, one of a kind.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
Could you hold me up-
right, left to sit and stare
though your sifting smoke
columns like a spinal wisp,
wasting away time in your
beautiful lungs. I like to in-
hale the cast-away smiles
you hang over me, into me,
my mind lost in taste to how
your chest is as mild as May.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
Marlboro Red,
under the comfort of my 2 fingers,
pointed towards the blue obre sky sprinkled with scanty dead stars.
The darkness of the night comforts me,
the wind kisses my face.
I'm so tired of being a human in this human race.
The smoke in the sky still lingers, like the craving for a beer or three.
I should have been asleep hours ago,
but the more I stare at the sky, the more stars appear to me.
I'm a lot like one, did you know?
Already dead but still glowing.
I'm not afraid at all. I'm ready to go.
I'm tired of not knowing.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
and here you are, again.
in this dimly lighted bar,
surrounded by middle-aged men
who only want to mess with you.
with your marlboro cigarette in hand,
and your expensive, 100$ whiskey on the counter,
you think you figured life out.
*life is just about to begin,
honey.*
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC