Delicate fingers hold a cigarette
As pale as her skin
And the smoke is drawn in
Lips tinted blood red
The girl taps the small cylinder
And its burnt poison falls
On the top of a speaker its ash
Flickers off with the pounding bass
Trickling to the floor like leaves
The dead embers land next to combat boots
Dropped next to them the cigarette
Both smashed and forgotten by the girl
Who gazes with sultry gray eyes
At her black lighter and pack of cigarettes.