i want you like no one else should

i want you.
and those words purge
from my lips
like fluorescent moonbeams.

swollen eyes
are darker than they seem
and something was different
in the way you
looked
at me.

it's been a year or so
but the hymns of the air
conditioner
are painless.

and my tank top
is hinging onto your
collarbones
but i don't know
if the melody is on
key.

and ash is spilling
from your lips
even though your
mother
told you smoking is
a breeding ground for
cancer.

will your skeleton hands
smoke me?