Cigarette on her lips.

If my heart were a person,
I'd imagined her in black and white
Hair in a mess
Wearing a big white tshirt
Faced ashen
Lips swollen
Eyes dead
That is how I see her last.

And if I get to talk to her
I'd give a fucking cigarette.
For a second there
I thought I had what I had
Felt what I felt
Tasted what I tasted 
Not too long ago
In the same mediocre manner 
Just like what it was used to.

But of course this is life
and it went away in a flurry
and I was left there stumped
thinking; oh well
You've grown up.

Because deep down I knew
I never like how it tasted
I hated how it felt
but I dared, oh how I dared
to slip poison through 
and thinking oh this is real.
So I grew up.

This is life I said
I stop the wanting
I stop the chasing
I stop the hoping
Don't come as you please
because I am tired
So please
Grow up