arsonist's love

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 sometimes she was a sheet of grinning, bleached misery- and others she was so sweet i got toothaches just from kissing her.

One day we were sitting side by side, and there was pink roses all over her sweater. Her hair was frizzy from the raindrops outside and she said "he told me i should stop smoking."

And i asked her why and she sighed and turned away from me-

"Because it's killing me."

and she calls me at the first cringe of morning and her voice is honey in my ears

And i look at her, framed by the sunset through my sister's bedroom window. There is a song playing in the background that neither of us are listening to

And in these moments i want to say those three words so, so badly and they are welling at the back of my throat and purging my tongue like emotional vomit

One day she comes to me and she cries so thick and sticky the roses on her sweater start to wilt.

And i ask her what's wrong and she shakes her head

But she looks so pretty and there it is at the back of my throat, in this moment i love her oh my god i love her so much

So i kiss her

I kiss her and her sticky tears melt all over my cheeks and dry up like sand in summer

When we pull away i open a pack of marlboro reds and she plucks one with lax fingers

" i thought you stopped smoking "

She laughs her sugary laugh and i love her, oh my god, i love her

" the cigarettes were never what was killing me. " 

11.11.16  beauty comes in the strangest forms 

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