PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

my hands

they smell like smoke

like i've been holding a cigarette

but i don't smoke

i wonder where i've been

i look at her

maybe she's perfect

maybe she's nothing

and i tell myself not to care

and part of me doesn't

it's a mix

of miracle

and marlboro lights

and sometimes i just wish i had a place for my hands to go

fade into you

strange you never knew