The Contingency Plan

take two

Her name meant beauty but she felt worthless like used teeth going on sale. Crouched into a corner she smoked the last half or her last cigarette and inhaled each breath as if it would unveil promises she longed to forget.
Their love had been intensely brief. It left her feeling like a novice flasher
the rush
the panic
she ran
the regret
overexposed and naked. She had revealed too much and longed for those parts back.
So she sat in corners and smoked all of her cigarettes in halves as if she could replace the smell of his skin and the mouthfuls of his breath with smoke to clear her dirty lungs.
She had dreamt of a life void of stains and scatted thoughts but had tumbled for a promise with the unfaithful and couldn't heal her bruises.

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I wrote this poem around six months ago, it's one of my favourites...