Waiting to withdraw
from
card-board cutaway,
roll... and rest
in index dent,
feeling
fingers touching me,
smelling scent of
human hand,
longing
lighter fire to
warm the inner glow.
Burn me baby,
smooth out
the infliction.
Inhale me now and soothe...
our drug addiction.
A contest entry
- Your Vice, Personified... by cheaphotelsign.
750 points, ended May 29, 2007, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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thank you for the entry!
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Thanks for the trophy.
Great idea for a contest.
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oh how wonderful from the cigarettes point of view...well done...good luck! going to smoke now





