Vincent van Gogh


Skeleton with a cigarette.

We talk with no regret.

My heart beats fast in a fishbowl.

Yours evident from bone to bone.

You bring joy from unexpected places.

From texts to peculiar faces.

I took a smoke to make some time.

To wonder whether your question was benign.

I go through the same eb and flows.

The question of, am I in love? Or is it just the smoke?












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