Cigarette Lips

Cigarette lips have never tasted sweeter

Even the allergic cavities in my brain

say it’s okay since it seems to keep the blues away.

And all I want to do

is kiss those cigarette lips

until the sun rises over the rooftop where we sit. 

Cigarette lips have never felt softer.

A persistent reminder of the time you went easy,

respecting my every move.

You know, not once have I ever felt dirty with you.

Those cigarette lips have never felt cleaner,

as clean as a fresh scrubbed windshield

on the way across the country,

making just enough stops to ensure we don’t miss a turn

Going the speed limit, or slower,

to take in the beauty of all the places we go.

I miss those cigarette lips.

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