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Rated: E · Poetry · None · #2333173
Three days in bed.
When you smoke a cigarette, the scent never leaves.
I stayed in bed three days, trying to rid myself of it.

The First day, clouds perched upon my shoulders.
I lay watching television, the colors bleeding in
fading to monochrome tones.
I could swear that I saw you.

The Second day, my legs grew numb with a cold shiver.
A rock settled on my chest, growing bigger by the hour.
hunger and thirst wrapped me like a warm blanket.
and I could no longer lift my head above the rain,
that flooded my cheeks.
I almost drowned in my pillow, thinking of you.

The Third day, the world grew louder
the light was too bright; the darkness, too dark
I heard you say, "Buy a lamp instead."
I ordered one but it never came.

I saw you sitting by the window, smoking your cigarette.
You said "This will be my last, I promise"
I smiled and said something, though it escaped my memory

I Love you. I loved you. I always will.
You burned like a cigarette—
Then stayed, like smoke.
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