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Description
Olivia

Stacks of sandbags
make caves
behind warehouses bare
you would smoke until the sky
was liquid blue
half a day you'd stay burnt
tongue fat, pressed to the inside of your teeth
mute
and when you came down
the creeping insecurities
of sobriety
lay their naked limbs across
your body
muscles a weave of strained fibers
hungry for a fix
and each slinking appendage
slowly reminded you
of doubt

but not so far off
sugared demons of
hollow retreat
whisper to your thoughts
of sandbag walls
and thirsty concrete
baking in afternoon sun

behind steel buildings
you'll inhale the last
of you're regret
and exhale
only smoke