గ్రంథాలయం
ప్రొఫైల్
French Cigarettes
French Cigarettes
1 min
263
The taste of tobacco
Lingers around my lips
And the ash covers my fingers
Like a half-drunk, sad man
Sitting by the counter of a dimly lit bar,
It refuses to go away
The burning paper stares at me
Fiery eyes insisting that I spill
All the hurt painted on my lungs
But even if I burn my life away
With cigarettes and poetry
The garden your fingers left behind
When they ran amok on my skin
Won't wither away
They refuse to leave.
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