I'm breathing the smoke of fruit cigarettes, <br />One's already burnt; I am craving for more. <br />I'm lighting the last one with no regrets - <br />If you were beside me, it well could be four. <br /> <br />I'm slowly turning the key in my lock; <br />It usually takes me two minutes or three, <br />But I have been blind to the obstinate clock - <br />Alas, there is no one waiting for me. <br /> <br />My room has no present but treasures the past; <br />Its walls will recall every breath that we share... <br />I'm feeling so cold. I break down at last: <br />My papers will choke on the ink of despair. <br /> <br />My heart's like a violin's sound, unclear; <br />It's out of tune for a permanent matter. <br />I'll sign all these verses with only one tear <br />And seal with a sigh just to send with a letter.<br /><br />April Avalon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/evening-59/
