Jun 22

Borrowed Sweetness.

Her lips are red,
Borrowed sweetness
From my own. 

Her mouth leaks smoke,
From her lungs,
Limp cigarette hanging from her 
Red lips,
Borrowed sweetness. 

I remember the day
I tried to tell her that
they’d kill her. 

She just laughed,
Saying that
That was the point. 

To die slowly 
But painlessly. 

Until the end,
When it all crashed down,
And she faded out.

With nothing but a 
Burning cigarette 
Between those red lips,
Borrowed sweetness. 


 
About the Author: lila woodard
'But to make yourself feel nothing - so as not to feel anything - what a waste!' - Andre Aciman, Call Me By Your Name
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