Oh, how I would love
To be his cigarette
If only I could be
Held between his lips
To be inhaled by him
Oh, how I would love
To be the tobacco that he chews
To be swallowed
And spit out
By you
From afar, I sit by the water
And watch you
Dark peppery hair
Faded down into your tattoos
Read me a story
About the rest of our lives
And I’ll see my reflection
Staring back in your eyes
About the Creator
River Gilliam
My dad always said he knew I was going to be a poet because I was crying before I had even completely left the womb. It’s always been my dream to get published someday.
She/her. Cosmetologist. Writer. Vegan. Dog mom.
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