Bee

The cigarette I smoked last night

As I held the long burning paper
The insides filled with what looks like burnt grass
I reached into the pack of cigarettes in the breast pocket of my shirt
As the cigarette, left rested in between my lips,
Leaving a permanent stain on my tongue like graffiti from a troubled adolescent
The smoke brewing out from the tortured paper, its remains turning into ashes
My lungs adoring the addicting trail it leaves behind throughout my body
The thin paper’s remains were cut short
The strength of my hand does a flicking motion
It falls to the ground
The soul of my stiletto shoe crushing the last view of its prey, B

You are a talented writer my Bumble Bee...left handed like your Grandpa Bee, love mama xoxox