Lunchtime Cigarette

[daquirigirl]

There is nothing here
To stop the feeling
As my heart slowly tears itself apart.

A lunchtime cigarette,
With You,
And a brush of your lips is the dream I hold dear to
[It may never happen].

I breathe in your life,
And I exhale my dreams;
Insubstantial fleeting moments,
Before evaporation.

There is nothing here
To stop the feeling,
As my heart

Slowly tears itself

Apart.