Swirling Black
If you thought
You could find him
In the swirling black
At the end of the night
After he held your hand
And told you to run
You were wrong.
If you thought
You could find him
At the end
Of a lit cigarette
Waiting for your name
To blow up his phone
You were wrong.
He was at the end
Of the swirling black
In the bottom of the green
Glass bottle
It tasted like liquorice
And bitter romance
In the mottled light
Of an early morning sunrise.
He was at the end
Of a lit cigarette
Watching through
Smoke rising in the
Darkness
Gone as quickly
As you could inhale.
Copyright © Hannah Tobin | Year Posted 2015
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