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The gray area
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Just my poems I sit here with my face upturned to the sky
Parting my lips and closing them around the sweet addiction that I hold oh so dear to me
Breathing in the stale toxin that gradually infects my lungs
The clouds are forming in gray masses
Matching my pattern of thinking
However I am trapped here
The swirling smoke held inside of me left to build and flow through my mind until it runs through my veins
They are free flowing, the clouds
Free to express themselves on sunny days when all is calm; on stormy nights when their cries aren’t so silent
No one questions them
I do not posses that luxury
So until this day and from this night on my storm will be kept inside of me
Except for when the smoke escapes yet again from my parted lips
Stress relief found in a menthol cigarette
the grey area
i can relate i smoke too and to me it is a stress reliever nice poem i loved it.
zoeycup16
I wanted you to know I like
I wanted you to know
I like your writing
Especially good
For being so young
Take care of yourself
You will never get back
Them things
Called Lungs
KS
Thank you
Thank you for the read, and for your consideration. I do not pan on smoking forever.
Though most life long smokers don't. We'll see, I suppose.
-Destinee