something hollow leaks in through the hole
where a cigarette burns
(or unlit, sleeps behind your ear)
catching those threads that you thought i was ripping
in the smoulder-quick embers,
but remain charred or not.
my words strangle honesty in your ears
but these ties are too close to let me burn you
and these callouses are too soft to stop your pain from
permeating deep and staining
(eventhough i don't think i want to wash it off my skin)
where the scent will follow me
like the painful strings of smoke that escape your lips and trail behind.