Wordsmoker

And with that last cigarette, still smoldering in the ash tray between us on the bedsheet, we renew our bond, a bond so strong the vegitation creeping up around the edges of the walls and furniture couldn’t break it, try as it might, try as it might, and as the smoke slinks upwards toward the open sky above us, we seccumb to our passion one last time, and this time without the jelly.