Counting Pineneedles

Found your cigarette one half, smoked in a pack on the ground

Saved it for a week before I smoked it with the shades drawn down

Purgatory lurking as the morning crawls to the sky

Counting pine needles on my back till my lips run dry

Do you still talk a lot of shit, when you, get the chance?

Do you still talk a lot of shit, when you, should hold your breath?

Fingertip tulips blurred sunlight through the window panes

Sitting by my phone because I miss just hearing you complain

Origami hearts, bending with the sun and the moon

Tearing at the edge, folded up, just to break too soon