A tiger’s red eye blinking—
she sucked each joint
to ash, slid her hands
past no return,
snatched
my hard-earned cash.
She surfed a wave of whiskey
past the breakers
each new dawn,
claimed every song
worth singing
remained as yet unsung.
I met her and grew old
with her, with only
one regret—
our spark flared
bright, but faded fast;
a burnt-out cigarette.
Ryan Stone
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