Jenny: Poetry

| Murder | Ash | Tired |

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The light bulb commited suicide
Naked and lynched from the ceiling
It murdered the sunset
Slaughtered the dawn
And left tell tale tracks of blue in my eyes

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The ash from your cigarette
The leftovers of a good time
You inhaled the toxins
Like swirls of cloudy war planes
A slow kamikaze pursuit
Plotted against your dark lungs
And your equally colored fingertips
Which caress my lips
Finger painting with yourself
Driving thirst away
With another kind of yearning

My uneven and nervous strokes
Against your melodious humming
I'm not so beautifully composed
Or peacefully restrained

My mind's a grey stranger
Whose lost in your smog
Choking and slipping from view
Until faint footprints are the only reminder
That he was ever there

And from the smell of my smoky hair
Your smile draws into the crevices in your cheeks
As the dark scurries into it's corners
Reminding you of your first love
Nicotine, addicting as you are
But not half as beautiful
And not nearly as real
As your touch

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We breathe instinctively
But what happens when it takes effort
When your last breath is only your first
And your first takes a lifetime
And your life is pointless
Because the point was blown away by your sigh

I never liked trying
There's too much sweat involved

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