Can’t breathe the smoke, can’t be the smoker she said. Can’t stand the taste, don’t kiss the taste she said. Never felt the goods, never been in their place for the feel goods. Never been relaxed, never kicked it back, that’s who she said she thought she was. Wasn’t attracted, wasn’t appealing. Saw the smoke, saw the haze, traced it down the roots to capture the grasp of his eyes. His eyes settled on her. Gleaming, peering down her conscious, had her at a distance hello. Had herself fluttering at a turn off, suddenly she was at a certain turn on as she watched him inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale. Paying close attention to his jaw lines, oh how he held that narcotic. How his two fingers represent his tranquility, making her feel at ease, at peace, making her feel like ohhh like ahhh. Good girl gone bad? Nahhh.
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