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.
Written by BlackRose_Mira (trashcat)
Published
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