Cigarette and the guitar
The guitar and cigarette burn melodically
I sit in the lounge hoping to train myself
No sitting in the lounge before the show starts
under my breath a few sad whispers
I wipe my hand on the fitted jeans I wear
smearing them with cigarette ashes
very few fallen to the ashtray
engulfed with the music- I stir- waiting for the melody to stop
poem by Tajma Hall
Added by Poetry Lover
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