One Love

May 28, 2010
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The sun is black,
as are her lungs
and heart.

Dark smoke spirals
from the cigarette
pressed between
wrinkled lips.

Suicide at a snail’s pace.
Every drag more fatal.
But death does not faze her.
She awaits an eternity
Of ebony dreams.

And why not?
The children have grown.
Her hair is gray.
Body is shutting down.
No husband to grow old with.

Long ago, she surrendered
her love to one:

Nicotine comforts her,
Keeps her warm like
No other could.
It tucks her into
Cozy blankets.

And inevitably,

it will be the
one who kisses her
Good Night.

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