Crimson Girl

You walk into the room

to see her today.

The girl who smokes your cigarettes...

who waves the feathers of her fan...

You love her dearly.

You love the curl of her hair

the purse of her lips 

the elegance of her composure 

the smile that she lays upon you every

time she sees you gaze at the curves 

on her body

She intoxicates you

and you can no longer move

but simply lay back 

opposite from her and watch

as she blows smoke into 

the heavens of your

surroundings. 

This is what helps you escape.

There is nothing to be touched.

Only your eyes are fed by

the beauty of her presence.

She comforts you with her silence.

She is crimson.