I can quit if I prefer
But I’d rather you give me cancer
As you grow in me by each stick
A habit of mouth and index to flip and breathe
I want your fire and cloud and ash and disease
I want your nicotine stains in my skin and teeth
Dearest, kill me 11 minutes at a time
I’d inhale your soul for what is worth my life
Though short yet mad and as sweet
Your design is my lucky cancer stick
Come into my fingers and let me light you up
Come into my willing lungs.
Vivien Marie Lopez Jorillo
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