Drag And Drop

The cigarette
a leaning tower of ash
from your fiery fingrtips,
burns at your parting lips
like the biding flame

Eyes that look through me
and a smile so sour
that once knew me,
an ember in the dying hour
that you last spoke my name

The match
a tinderstick of spite
struck with a flick of your pale wrist,
is set to burst alight
at the hand of your ability to mame

A drag
and a soft blow
and your cheeks turn
because your smile knows
that beyond the smoke
it will find my name in the air again.




Poetry by Aven Black
Read 752 times
Written on 2009-10-21 at 00:53

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Esti D-G
Interesting use of the deadly sticks.
Nice one
luvestixx
2009-10-22


Sparks
love the rhyme scheme and the rhythm and feel to this,
you created a good image and interesting feelings in my mind
congrats, very cool
2009-10-21


jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
i am putting away my lighter
because this makes me feel quite heavy with pleasure :)
2009-10-21



Fabulous imagery here....love the title too. The implications are tantalising...

Smiling at you

Tai
2009-10-21