weak things

There used to be a sunset in her eyes
As she sat crossed legged while holding her cigarette
Taking long drags of life into her lungs
Smoking her soul upon the setting sun

She would turn to me almost broken
And ask me if I wanted to join in on her destruction
I took every cigarette she gave, and kept them all the same
I thought it made sense

But now as I hold these unused cigarettes
It breaks my heart

Every Sunday we used to go and see the latest flick
We’d buy the biggest bucket of popcorn and laugh at every bit
Even if it wasn’t funny, even if was gloomy
It was all the same to us, all fake and all fun

She would recline her ugly boots upon the nearest seat
Tilt her head back and bellow with all she had
It would make me smile just to see her laugh
It was rare and something I would never forget

But now I can’t watch a movie and find it amusing
I only find it sad

It so peaceful here
And so quiet
I light a cigarette and lean back against my friend
It’s a cold feeling traveling down my back
I turn around and stare at the word’s etched upon her face
“Here lies the Victor of the Soul and the Greatest Friend of All”
It’s not what it says but to me what it means
I smother the cigarette upon the tomb stone’s head
And whisper to her all I have left
I walk away from the only peace she has ever known
With the sun setting behind a garden of stone

We are all weak things
And even the smallest stone can break us
It just depends how it is thrown
And for her, life just threw too much of a curve