The throes of a chronic smoker
The perfect cigarette happen every day,
Forbidden, taking your breath away.
So succulent, inhaling the smoke
It flows like a halo around the tiny glow...
An exercise as the smoke slowly crawls,
Inhale and exhale - an unadulterated pleasure,
As long as your lungs with stands the pressure...
You take a drag and feel at peace...
The rush you feel within,
Tender, violent, a sweet sin...
Another hour, and this continues...
It is wrong but it feels so right,
The not so perfect cigarette you hold this night...
0 Candles:
Post a Comment