Ode To Dagga

Ode To Dagga ode

Photo by Bob Doran

Come back to me.
I yearn your bitter, yet velvety touch.
You make me blush,
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
You fill the void that you re-create,
Every time I let you escape,
From a crippled wage,
Or when I’m caught with you,
Perhaps, an inevitable mistake?
Through warm eyes of glass and scarlet,
and a poise futile to mask or fake.
I surrender myself to you,
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
Your tenderness so tempting,
An alluring angel, bleeding heavy dulcet scents,
Your essence, oozing of citrea and spice.
Your being, quite viscid and so dense.
A forbidden love, or merely a voluptuous vice?
I miss you in my lungs.
Come back to me.
Penetrating all anguish and woe.
Your pungent kiss flows through me,
Like lying hushed, in a beautiful, warm meadow.
When I’m with you, there’s no where we cannot go,
Whisk away my poignant echoes.
I miss you in my lungs.

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Flora-Belle Smith

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I began writing when I had an opportunity to reside in solitude, giving me time to come to terms with my being.
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