Cigarette in hands
Hands in hair
Hair on fire, eyes on fire, life on fire for all I know, young miss.
You had a vein about you
In a way
Where you seemed to walk with someone,
yet next to you was only the Springwarmair.
That's all.
Perhaps a stroll with a cigarette is doing you good?
And the words fly off your lips,
The smoke does not choke for once,
I don't understand
Why you walk alone yet together
And you're alone yet
Give off the aire of being... unalone?
Just not lonely.
Just not alone.
(That was horrible.)
No comments:
Post a Comment