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.