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Ripped Jeans

Cigarette Smoke

By A.I.R. E.Published 5 years ago 1 min read
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She hides in the dark

Because she’s afraid of her demons,

Unaware that it’s a street light

She’s desparaely seeking.

She opens her eyes to see her reflection;

She’s standing at the post on the corner of Beacon.

Wheels whistle through the street

As if you’re calling for her.

Longing for the ripped jeans

And cigarette smoke in the air.

The aroma that connected her love and fears,

It was a connection she wished for in her prayers.

Within time she became soulless.

You just starred-

At her body that laid in your bed each night.

Praying that any intimacy would heal all fights.

But her body became cold

And her mind went numb;

She was addicted to this life,

You were the lace in her virgin album.

Dates became coitus

And green turned to white;

Conversations only focused

On what’s currently in sight.

She went from a book of blank pages

To ashes resulted from your fire.

She became detrimental,

Striving to disengage from your desires.

She sat in silence, repeating her name

Trying to find herself without you near.

She was in fear,

For she felt psychotic;

She couldn’t help but believe

That your love was intensely fucking toxic.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

A.I.R. E.

Turning every relationship, experience and person into poetry.

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