The last cigarette I smoked tonight
tasted like the cold air of this past winter.
It tasted like both of our tears.
Or kind of like blood.
December fourth at 11:59pm,
that's all I could think about.
December fourth, right before midnight.
One minute before my twenty-fifth birthday.
Just sixty agonizingly slow seconds before it all
fell apart.
Or maybe that's when it all came together. . .
Either way,
I meant it when I told you,
"Everything will be O.K. baby"
No comments:
Post a Comment