Smoke This

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i can see the wrinkles in your hands as if i've held them
i type a million secrets with the hope that you wont tell them
i could knit a scarf with the intricate weave of compliments
i spin just for your benefit
but you would never wear it, because it itched
you'd just carry it around and admire the tight stitch
i can smell the smoke on your breath as if i've kissed you
and i can taste the manipulation on my tongue
paired with the stress in your sultry caress as you come undone
dizzy like a drunk, spinning like a speed-whore
needing more attention than a cheap whore
shining like a razor, but sharp like a chalkboard
spreading like cancer, immortal like a phantom
i know your type
you fly heroin high, like a hemp kite
the white in your teeth matches the bleach in your speech
when i touch your face with undying admiration
all i can feel is earth crumbling under the numbness
of my disappointed fingertips
but i'd never let my grip slip
i have you caught, this is my pond now
i like the sound of your high pitched nasally goodbyes
and the flirtatious way you allow me to take and take and take
as you unravel like the scarf i so kindly knitted for you





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