Monday, April 13, 2009

Love Sick

love, as I swallow, you are the lump in my throat
and though sick, the cigarette, that I still smoke
left in a grey cloud of nicotine I persistently choke
all behaviour I know to you and this history cloak
you're the same's the coffee I buy when so broke
love, this fire's embers of questions of why stoke

No comments:

other people waiting

we're not strangers anymore