Cigarette Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

His eyes are closed,
Her lips are opened
Like windowsills
In the breeze and the breathing daffodils

And so as her lips are opened,
She was choking on a stick,
And with an arm as staunch as bricks
She took in, the whiff of demise

And so I sat still,
Underneath the foot of a lonely hill
I saw the mirage of a dying oak tree,
And then savored the flavor of the churning tar

It was burning like the Sun,
The Sun between your fingers,
And it smelt like burning pyres
With lungs like chambers taking in as we respire

And so as the lips of lascivious crimson,
And with lungs as empty as train stations
She felt the ease the smoke brings,
Among the deception of shinny, lying things

And breath after breath, cradled by regret,
She was gasping for some sense,
As the smoke took away her senescence
She knew she was lonely, she died like a cigarette.