deepundergroundpoetry.com

Don't burn your lips

Come to me, cigarette
nothing makes sense.
The voices that wake me
the bruise and the blood
at the back of my head.

I finally have you...
in exchange,
everything, but the sun,
is gone.  
Written by CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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