Aftermath
He doesn't know anything besides the envy he felt when her cigarette was pressed against her lips
Or how the covers press against her whole body and protects her, like he wanted to do
He longed to touch her soul like the sad music
Or maybe how the cold blade held her together more than he ever could
He always hoped to be her alarm clock, the first thing she touched every morning
He wanted to be the light she needed for her morning cigarette
But all he was were the ashes after it was all done
Copyright © Briana Ridley | Year Posted 2017
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