Cigarettes -An Odd Villanelle-
I was addicted to the taste of cigarette smoke and lies,
and the way your eyes matched the pattern of the stars at midnight.
But I was to drugged by your words to remember that poisonous beasts have the most colorful eyes.
They told me it wasn't love, but when I thought I was alone, you muffled my drunken cries.
It wasn't love but I still wrote you a book, pages telling how you set me on fire without a light,
but you took it and tore out the pages and off my clothes, kissing my skin with razor sharp lies.
You told me that I was the kind of song you wanted to memorize,
a song where the drum synced with the beat of your heart just right.
You told me I was pretty enough to be a picture, but the flash of the camera always hurt my eyes.
He swore that he would turn my blood into alcohol and my reflection into someone I didn't recognize,
I wanted out of my skin so bad, I didn't scream when he ripped it apart, to numb to even fight.
Then he took a paint brush to my body, painting me into a masterpiece, singing me sweet lies.
I fell in love with a boy that threw me off a cliff, screaming 'Lets see if she flies'.
And I fell willingly, while shooting his love into my veins, his drugs that faded my world to white.
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