Nicotine-laced lips,
exhale the stresses of the day.
Watch the smoke fill the air,
beautiful spirals that float.
So poisonous,
yet a life source.
A way for the stresses to escape.
But they never really escape.
They only hide,
waiting for the opportune moment,
to spring back with full force,
knocking me down onto your face-infested memory.

The day lazes by,
as I lay,
frozen in time.
Everything is just photomanipulation.
Distorted colours and delayed time frames,
are all a part of the norm.
You are the only constant,
always the same,
never changing.
You don't belong in my world,
yet will always be a part of it.
How you stick out annoys and frustrates.

Swing higher and harder,
above anything and everything.
The train of the dress creates the night sky,
why so dark?
Everything is valued more,
when it cannot be seen.
All secrets come out to play,
confident they'll not get caught.
Please don't knock me off my swing,
for it's the only way I fly.
Yet you've always been the first,
to clip my wings.
And so I fall back down.
Into my stresses,
my fog of smoke,
dripping from my nicotine-laced lips.