Smoking In Bed
Something I wrote about a year ago.
Smoking In BedA sulfur wafting strike upon the tip,So the man thinks to himself in the oppressive solitudeOf a clandestine comfort,Furnishings and a rooted loving place.With a glance towards his accomplice,He thinks to rouse him.But with a flick of the wrist,Snuffed the moment.He leaves the dreamer on his stomach;Sits in post-coital discontent.He stares into all this space.The nicotine dreaming betrays the seemingIn dim whispers of heatAnd slow thrusts of smoke.There's a fair-weather musk in the hostel.He doesn't think to fleeThis once.He only regrets how natural it has become;A wave of the fist to put the flicker out.