May 2015 - Comments Off

Georgieanna Richer

B

I keep breaking cigarettes in my left pocket
They are fixated on my left breast
There is tobacco spilled in pocket and my mouth
The boys make their own cigarettes
And they say don’t put that trash in your body
But it reminds me of boys
I miss them
They last longer then the taste
I taste them in the smoke
Burnt paper
You are quick and bright and loud
And I am quite bold and proud
And if we hit like I think we will
We’ll make a storm strong enough to kill
But if we drop
You’ll turn to ash
And I’ll freeze over smooth as glass

Published by: in Audio, Issue 1: Fall 2014, Prose, Volume 71

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