Women to me are like a cigarette.
The chemical rush is so addictive.
A flirt, a tease, a drag, pull those coquettes.
A kiss of either changes how I’ll live.
It always seems harmless the first time.
After you get past that irksome cricket’s voice.
Its not like I am guilty of some crime.
It has always been entirely my choice.
Girls and smoke can both be like a dancer.
Exhale. Sigh. They sway, sink into my heart.
Embedded in veins, creeping like cancer.
But I should have thought of that from the start.
Shortening my life five minutes per rush.
I can’t deny the craving when it’s so lush.
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