her skin was cold but her forearms warm from the fire and i thought about taking that cigarette from her lips and instead she could smoke on my tongue. this is not supposed to be some poetic shit where tragedy meets beauty because those stories aren't real. what's real is me wanting to kiss her over and over again. i want to trace the sensitive skin on her thigh and i want to feel her goosebumps. but we all know that won't happen because i don't have the courage and she doesn't care. maybe i'll just offer her a light instead.
