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

whatever.

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