deepundergroundpoetry.com
Nicotine Lipstick
I can't stop
A part of me knows that, but I
convince myself I can
if I wanted to.
I just don't want to.
I exhale.
If I close my eyes
I can almost imagine--
I am not breathing out smoke
My mouth is not lined with poison
I am not destroying myself.
I am.
It is.
That is exactly what I'm doing.
And I don't even like it.
But I keep going,
right up to the filter
sometimes past it
until my fingers burn
until it nearly feels like
I am breathing in fire.
It disgusts me.
Makes me sick.
It's sweet, so sweet
then so bitter my stomach clenches.
...and then I come back for seconds.
It clings to my lips.
Lingers.
I guess
this is me
kissing Death on the mouth.
One day, Death is going to kiss back.
A part of me knows that, but I
convince myself I can
if I wanted to.
I just don't want to.
I exhale.
If I close my eyes
I can almost imagine--
I am not breathing out smoke
My mouth is not lined with poison
I am not destroying myself.
I am.
It is.
That is exactly what I'm doing.
And I don't even like it.
But I keep going,
right up to the filter
sometimes past it
until my fingers burn
until it nearly feels like
I am breathing in fire.
It disgusts me.
Makes me sick.
It's sweet, so sweet
then so bitter my stomach clenches.
...and then I come back for seconds.
It clings to my lips.
Lingers.
I guess
this is me
kissing Death on the mouth.
One day, Death is going to kiss back.
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