Her words are like the cigarette smoke
That slowly escapes her mouth,
Losing shape and form,
On a quest to seek something heavenly,
But melting away into something so worldly.
She never cares enough for them.
She never cares enough for others.
Just letting them out like cigarette smoke,
Because she has to,
What else can she do?
And every time she let’s them out,
They make my eyes teary.
They make the reality blurry.
They suffocate me a little.
And then, she laughs a little.
Clean nails and scarred hands.
I feel the urge to hold them.
On her face she wears carelessness.
Inside her mouth I see darkness.
And I crave to escape into that.
I know these words paint a vague picture.
But I am too tired now to write any further,
Because she doesn’t care enough.
For her these words are mundane.
Because she neither feels love nor shame.