And so she said you’re the catalyst of my depression the holy place in my mind where God was supposed to be found started to flow on sinful desires you crafted in me. As if the bellyache wasn’t enough the butterflies started melting to dust and her body begged for mercy but your hands found shelter in the gap between her thighs and so you turned her into a messy bed in a motel room before she even knew she was being checked into. She wanted you to be the genesis of every high that came without the happy pill but she talks about you now like you were a plane crash that began in her brain and ended her dreams. So you kissed her under tangerine skies and made her cheeks grow candy-apple red, told her there was nothing sexy about cancer and she should quit the blunts. But you left her with more than decaying organs and rotten lungs. She wanted you to know that she saw you in every bad dream and under every sunrise. No it was not romantic or poetic your complex presentation of personality drove her insane. So she wanted you to know that cigarettes could do more for her than you ever could and some mysteries are better left in the airtight jars they come to you. Some people are better left drowning in the things that make them. -H

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