Saturday, May 6

Cigarettes

My eyes crease in disappointment
as ghostly gray smoke swirls
around your face, lined
with the ache of exhaustion
from days without rest.

Your hands, fingers so slender,
tremble as they roll the loose tobacco
and you lick your lips
and you hunch your shoulders
and you flick the lighter.

My promises aren’t broken
like yours. I stand disgusted,
hands tucked into pockets
of the coat I borrowed that smells
too much like home.

You look at me and smile,
so nearly my sister, sucking
and pulling while I cry no tears
for my resignation and betrayal.

brittany thinks really deep thoughts @ 11:21 PM

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