Cling to your tiny lips,
That cigarette must feel happy burning between your fingers,
You know you should wear some lipsticks
To stamp an epitaph red.
You smell something like lavender,
Its like whisper when you utter any words,
Your smiles sounds like river,
And you melt the conversation by your warmth.
That evening,
My whole world encircled in your face,
Orbiting around your lips,
Did I dreamt too much or
we were supposed to break the barrier of time and space,
Or want something better together,
Or just two smoker sorting out life with nicotine and deep thoughts​ !
You left early,
I resume gazing into walls, pictures and the calendar.
But those ashes on the floor,
Fading lavender

chanting something into my ear,

Its true,
I want to be that cigarette in your lips,
Burning, dying but feeding your craves.


4 thoughts on “Cigarette in Your Lips

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