Secondhand Reformed
Artist unknown Secondhand Reformed Your cigarette blooms like a burnt apology. Your puff reminds me of the stench I used to be. Once, I called that smoke home— now it wears the breath of an ex-lover's lie, curling toward me, asking for one last kiss I'll never give. ----- This Quadrille (44 word poem) shared with those pastry puffs over at DVerse Poets Pub . ©2026 Christopher Reilley I would love to know what you thought about this piece. Please consider leaving a comment.
