Smoke

Smoke

Seductively

Creeps

Between fingers

That are still balancing

A burning cigarette filter

That was earlier so sweetly kissed

By her eager lips,

Sucking in

Every succulent carcinogen

Man has to offer.

She leans limply against the wall,

The one that he smashed his fist through

In attempts to shove that cigarette

Down her throat.

He would have watched

As smoke flowed

Like water

Out of every orifice in her body.

Now the room is empty

Except for the beautiful girl

With two holes in her head.

One from the gunshot

That ripped her skull apart

And soared so easily through

A vacuum

Of wasted space.

Out of the second hole,

Opposite to the first,

Went all of her sadness

And shame.

Red splatter modern art against the TV screen

That collects only static

And flies.

Bits of skull

Embedded in the ceiling.

A gun the girl hid inside her mattress

In case things went wrong in the bedroom

Again

Weighing down her hand.

Smoke filling the room

From the holes in her head

And from the cigarette filter

Still burning

Between her fingers.