cigarette stained stories
Red sheets
on a white bed
cigarette stained pillows.
She whispered secrets in my ear,
told me stories
so we could imagine a better time.
Not here,
she says with a hiss in her voice,
We don’t have to be here.
We smoked in England
ate in France
danced in Spain
drank in Ireland,
we made love under the stars in Finland.
She said we were on a boat,
red sails,
on a white ship
cigarette stained stories.
Guide that inspired this poem: