Smoke like whispers fleeting down my skin
Caress the air with your toxicity and make me choke
The burning in my lungs or that taste in my mouth
More polluted than the Hudson River
Or maybe even that feeling of
The first deep inhale after a long sleep
Swallow it down and take the punch
Rib cage expands to let in all of the stale pillow talk
Let out the rest of the glass left over
From our broken loose coins jar left on the windowsill
It's all just a spiral of fingers in the air
Reflecting the sunlight through
Marbled oxygen running off your tongue
All for a moment, a sense of peace
YOU ARE READING
The Poetry Collection [Editing]
PoetryA soulful recollection and philosophies on life from a young, femme, punk poet. Poems ranging from when I was still in school, moving out, exploring the world for the first time, moving through the years, until now, being an independent artist and b...
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