Comments about Abigail Woods
This Does Not Have A Title
in the front seat of your car,
a cigarette not yet burning between your cracked lips you turned towards me reluctantly
i saw the end in your eyes
as you pulled the lighter from your pocket and set fire to your lungs you said something that i could barely hear over that shitty mixtape i made you for your birthday last year
'i really need to quit these soon.'
i can not be your nicotine
i'm the reason you listen to The Smiths at 3: 15 a.m. while you scream about your failures and heartbreak
it's not fair to take it out on your pillows and bed ...