The Seventh Cigarette

Credit: Pexels

Tell me of the whirlwind stirring under your shirt and in your sheets once more as I’m on my knees dying to hear a fist slam down on your favourite record once more and then again and again

I thought I saw a window into something when you were just the blind passing over it like a scalpel over a perfect body slipping through its equinox

But now I’m by the window and this is the seventh cigarette and I’m wondering how the fall would feel while laughing; you’ve caught nothing but my shade over yours, doubling up to zero as I double over on the pavement below

Now I realise that your words were just a ribcage over a poisoned heart pissing black bile ripping through your guts licking at the soul…

…of a paragraph

of truth

or real feeling

What does it matter to You

© Cal Moore 2019