Your smoked filled eyes

Holding the thing in your hands,

Precious, you say.

Your smoked filled eyes,

Holding the lies you told me

“Friends”, you say

“Friends”, you say?

The friend is me?

The friend is the precious thing?

The thing you cannot let go,

The thing that makes you say “oh”.

I wish, oh I wish

Your smoked filled eyes,

Holding the darkness

So thick

I choke.

I freeze.

I move away.

From those smoked filled eyes

Reaching out,

To remove that precious thing from your pout.

“No”, you say.

“No”, you say?

The “no”

Slips between my lips

Taking a trip,

To your smoked filled eyes.