Slow rise and fall
lungs tumble, strategically
accept smokescreen defeat.
Less impulsive. So polite.
Decline to meet gazes
producing such tails.
Present tense cool
shyly eyes notable
identity compromise;
exhaling future allies.
Now eyes dead deep
from the inside.
Wasted wheels turn,
reputation acquired.
Oh my lungs, I’ve become
a detriment to love.
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