Drag(Jan 1st, 2013 at 03:34:44 AM)
Your cigarette. Your subtle strike of a match. The pull and release of air, with smoke, that drops like a sideways tear into the winter wind hangs on my nostrils, grabbing once or twice at fibers poised to sense, to feel with flavor. The smell I've never ingested. Intentionally. I've broken you. You crack — like good bacon. But sins are often lies, used incorrectly, and lies are hands, with fingers stroking low on the face of another. Cheeks. And bones. And lips so ready — poised — like trouble worn on the limbs of sneaky children. Close your eyes and drag again. I've never missed your smile, but life, like us, can set the prices on its own.