Setting fire to paper every hour
So that your lungs can harbour resentment
A symbol of beginnings and endings
Drifting clouds of smoke
Burning this moment into ash
A cemetery of butt ends
To remind you that your lungs are black
smoking
Cigarettes
It’s the 10th day of NaPoWriMo and creatively I’m a little constipated. I’ve managed to squeeze this out, though I’m unsure of it.
Cigarettes burn
Indifferent to your lungs
Memories scattered
As ashes
On the cusp
But never becoming
Anything recalled
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 