She's a lit cigarette;
She's smoke filling my lungs;
nicotine coursing through my veins.
She's a fire I so desperately want;
practically a need.
She's my coffee in the morning,
a bitter wake-up call
She;s a delicious aroma invading my senses.
the caffeine in my blood
She's a hot drink at oh five-thirty
to get me through the day
I am a painter- she my muse
All sharp edges and rough lines
A masterpiece covered and hidden
yet to be discovered
A tragic story in black and white
on my life's canvas.